THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


t^o 


Come  to  be  3Iarriei>.     Frontier,  p.  f»0. 


ON  THE  FEOJ!^TIER, 


SCENES    IN    THE    WEST, 


Written  for  the  Massachusetts  Sabbath  School  Society^ 
and  approved  by  the  Committee  of  Publication, 


BOSTON: 

MASSACHUSETTS  SABBATH  SCHOOL  SOCIETY, 
Depository,  No.  13  Cornhill. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864,  by  the 

MASS.  SABBATH  SCHOOL  SOCEETY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


STEREOTYPED  AT   THE 
(08T0N    STEEEOTYPE    FOUNDEY. 


PMNTID  BY  WRIGHT  &  POTTER. 


3Y 
ANSIS' 

Qss 


CONTENTS 


Page. 

Adventure  on  a  Western  Steamer,         ,        .  7 

Death  on  the  Prairie 19 

Going  for  Lumber ,         ,  41 

Light  for  the  Prairie 70 

A  Ride  to  a  Western  Wedding,  ...  89 
The  Little  Mound  in  the  West,  .  .  ,119 
A  Walk  with  a  Stranger,        .         .         .         .122 

A  Frontier  Tragedy, 147 

Frontier  Women, 186 

The  Midnight  Call 221 

The  World  -Wanderer,      ..*...  232 

The  Pastor's  Dream, 242 

A  Smile,  a  Glance,  a  Hymn,     ....  247 

A  Lost  Opportunity, 254 

"Not  in  Vain," 261 

The  Praying  Bankrupt, 265 

"A  Soft  Answer," 276 

That  Promise 281 

After  Many  Days 285 

My  Cousin 289 

Incident  in  a  Depot, 300 

My  Step-Mother,   cT'T' Ck<"*)*^€^        *        *  ^^^ 


ON  THE  FRONTIER 


ADVENTURE  ON  A  WESTERN 
STEAMER. 

I  HAD  been  for  some  years  in  poor 
health,  and,  at  length,  became  almost  pros- 
trated in  body  and  mind.  Physicians  ad- 
vised a  change  of  climate,  recommending 
the  North-west  as  adapted  to  restore  the 
tone  of  my  physical  system,  and  save  my 
lungs  from  disease. 

Having  never  visited  the  region  desig- 
nated, I  wrote  a  letter  of  inquiry  to  a  friend 
who  had  just  returned  from  that  part  of 
the  country.     Among  other  things,  in  reply, 

C7) 


8  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

he  said,  "  Should  you  go  West,  beware  of 
the  Mississippi  River  desperadoes.  In  taking 
a  steamer,  appropriate  a  state-room  to  your- 
self; do  not,  on  any  consideration,  share 
one  with  a  stranger.  Let  the  money  you 
take  with  you  be  in  gold,  and  what  you 
do  not  at  once  need  secure  about  your 
person,  thus."  Then  followed  an  ingenious 
method  of  secreting  it.  At  the  close  of  his 
communication,  the  caution  concerning  the 
money  and  the  state-room  was  repeated. 

Now,  it  is  all  very  well,  doubtless,  for  the 
physician  with  a  lucrative  practice  to  ad- 
vise his  patient  to  take  a  long  and  expensive 
iourney,  and  the  well-to-do  merchant,  with 
characteristic  foresight,  to  describe  the  best 
way  of  taking  care  of  surplus  funds  ;  but 
how  one  whose  income  was  "  five  hundred 
a  year,  and  sass,"  as  Peep  at  Xo.  5  has  it, 
could  make  such  directions  useful,  was  a 
question. 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  9 

Nevertheless,  in  one  such  case,  at  least, 
that  problem  was  solved;  I  will  not  say 
how,  without  the  permission  of  the  gener- 
ous friends  who  saved  heart  and  brain  that 
tug.  So  one  pleasant  autumn  morning 
found  me  on  my  way  to  the  El  Dorado 
of  broken-down  dyspeptics  and  pining  con- 
sumptives. 

A  ride  of  fourteen  hundred  miles  from 
my  sick  room,  and  I  was  at  Dubuque, 
weary,  yet  impatiently  awaiting  the  steamer 
that  w-as  to  take  me  to  the  rolling  prairies 
and  bracing  air  of  Minnesota.  I  had  seen 
"  the  lions,"  and  had  nothing  to  do  but 
that  most  patience-trying  of  all  vocations 
in  this  railroad  era  to  wait  —  for  a  delaying 
conveyance.  Hour  after  hour  passed,  and 
I  had  about  given  up  expecting  the  boat, 
when  the  porter,  touching  his  cap,  said, 
"  The  steamer  is  coming,  sir.  Shall  I  take 
your  baggage  to  the  landing?" 


10  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

What  a  swarming  hive  was  that  Missis- 
sippi steamer !  What  part  of  the  world  was 
not  represented  in  that  motley,  jostling 
throng ! 

My  first  business  was  to  secure  a  state- 
room, for  it  was  plain  that  all  on  board 
would  not  have  beds  that  night.  Just  then 
my  friend's  advice  recurred,  and  I  resolved 
it  should  be  followed. 

"I  would  like  a  state-room  entirely  to 
myself,"  said  I  to  the  clerk.  "  Can  I  be 
accommodated  ? " 

"  Can't  tell  about  that  I  "  said  he,  crust- 
ily. Then,  looking  over  his  book,  "  Yes, 
here's  one  empty — forty-nine;  and  here's 
the  key,"  handing  a  key  to  which  was 
attached  a  strip  of  leather  marked  49. 

I  was  enough  of  an  invalid  to  retire 
early,  and,  having  disposed  of  my  valise, 
turned  to  fasten  the  door,  when,  on  insert- 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  H 

ing  the  key,  I  found  that  it  would  not  fit 
the  lock.  Returning  to  the  office,  my  very 
meek  statement  of  the  unpleasant  fact  did 
not  add  to  the  amiability  of  the  clerk.  He 
couldn't  be  responsible  for  every  key  on 
the  boat ;  if  the  wrong  one  had  been 
labeled  forty-nine,  it  wasn't  his  fault.  "  All 
is,"  said  he,  "  that's  the  only  state-room, 
and  that's  the  only  key  to  it  /  know  of!" 

There  was  no  redress.  I  could  only  go 
back  to  the  state-room,  barricade  the  door 
with  such  articles  as  were  at  hand,  and 
make  the  best  of  it. 

How  welcome  "  nature's  sweet  restorer  " 
to  the  sick  and  weary  traveler,  and  how 
unwelcome  to  have  its  blissful  spell  dis- 
turbed, thought  I,  as  strong-lunged  voices 
banished  my  slumber.  Looking  from  the 
little  window  at  the  head  of  my  berth,  an 
animated  scene  was  presented.    On  an  ele- 


12  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

vated  stand  was  perched  a  well-dressed 
man,  playing  on  a  shrill-voiced  accordeon 
a  popular  air,  accompanying  it  with  a 
superb  voice ;  the  swaying  mass  of  human- 
ity around  joining  in  the  chorus  ;  scores 
of  voices  in  unison  making  stentorian  mel- 
ody. I  was  in  no  mood  to  sympathize  with 
their  enjoyment,  but  felt  rather  like  the 
old  lady,  who,  not  approving  of  martial 
music,  as  the  military  pageant  was  passing, 
stepped  out,  and  requested  the  band  to  stop 
playing.  Till  eleven  o'clock  the  noisy 
music  continued,  when  a  tall,  red-faced 
man,  who  made  it  his  business  to  tease  the 
musician,  dropped  a  satirical  remark  in 
one  of  the  pauses  in  the  concert  about  a 
certain  duet  by  a  cracked  voice  and  a  badly 
cracked  accordeon.  The  leader  of  the  or- 
chestra, with  the  over-sensitiveness  of  his 
class,  declared,  in  high  wrath,  he  would 


ON   THE  FRONTIER.  13 

play  no  more  —  an  announcement  which, 
very  ungratefully,  was  received  with  cheers, 
and  the  passengers  separated  for  the  night. 

Just  from  the  sick  room,  the  journey 
and  the  loss  of  rest  had  so  jaded  me,  that 
at  once,  as  soon  as  it  was  quiet,  I  fell  into 
a  deep  sleep.  Suddenly,  however,  I  was 
again  aroused,  by  the  falling  of  some  article 
to  the  floor,  and,  rising  upon  my  elbow, 
saw  a  face  peering  in  at  the  door,  as  if 
some   one  was   making   exertions  to  enter. 

It  was  a  swarthy  face,  with  shaggy  eye- 
brows and  heavy  black  beard,  and  the 
reader  can  feel  assured  it  did  not  impress 
me  at  all  favorably  in  the  dim  light  and 
the  dead  silence. 

"  What  do  you  want  ? "   I  asked. 

"  I  have  come  to  turn  in ! "  said  my 
visitor,   stepping  fully  into  view. 

"  You  have  mistaken  the  number,"  said 
1 :   "  this  is  my  room." 


14  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

"  I  think  yon  are  mistaken,"  he  coolly  re- 
plied :  "  this  is  forty-nine,  I  believe  ?  Yes,'* 
added  he,  stepping  back,  and  reading  the 
number  on  the  door,  '' forty-nine ^'^  then 
exhibiting  a  key  on  which  that  number 
was  marked. 

"  There  is  something  wrong,"  I  replied, 
"  and  I  can  not  submit  to  intrusion." 

"  And  I  can  not  be  kept  out  of  my  berth," 
he  rejoined,  determinedly.  "  The  clerk  sent 
me  here  not  three  minutes  ago,  with  this 
key,  and  here  I  intend  to  stay." 

"  We  will  see  what  the  clerk  says  about 
it,"  said  I,  starting  out  to  find  him.  My 
intruder  followed  ;  but  the  office  lights  were 
out,  and  save  tlie  echo  of  our  footsteps,  and 
the  strain  and  rush  of  the  boat,  silence 
brooded  in  the  vast  floating  palace. 

"  The  clerk  has  turned  in,  I  guess,"  said 
my  new  acquaintance,  "  the  rascal !   He  was 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  15 

here    not   more    than   three    minutes    ago. 
What's  to  be  done  ?  " 

I  reflected  a  moment.  A  short  time  be- 
fore, a  passenger,  walking  the  boat  at  night, 
mysteriously  disappeared ;  his  agonized  fam- 
ily being  put  ashore  the  next  morning  pen- 
niless and  without  a  protector.  I  must 
confess  that,  under  the  circumstances,  I 
scarcely  knew  which  to  choose  —  the  state- 
room with  the  stranger,  or  the  open  boat 
without  the  stranger,  but  concluded  to  take 
the  former.  So,  returning  together,  and  tak- 
ing the  upper  of  the  tier  of  berths,  I  resolved 
to  keep  watch  for  the  rest  of  the  night, 
ready  for  any  emergency.  My  unwelcome 
companion  took  the  berth  next  below  me. 

It  was  not  hard  to  keep  awake  after  the 
events  of  the  evening ;  and  yet  the  moments 
moved  slowly.  Full  two  hours  passed,  and 
I  was  deliberating  whether  or  not  to  dismiss 


16  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

my  suspicions  and  go  to  sleep,  when  weari- 
ness overcame  me,  and  I  dropped  into  a 
restless  slumber.  How  long  this  continued 
I  can  not  tell ;  but  suddenly  a  hand  glided 
across  my  chest,  pausing  at  the  very  spot 
where  the  gold  had  been  secreted.  The 
feat  was  accomplished  with  surprising  dex- 
terity, and,  glacing  in  the  direction  from 
which  the  hand  came,  I  found  myself  gazing 
into  the  same  eyes  that  had  peered  in  at 
me  from  the  half-opened  door!  But  the 
expression !  Never  had  I  seen  any  thing  so 
fiendish  —  such  a  look  of  murderous  deter- 
mination. The  left  hand  was  at  the  gold, 
while  the  right  held  a  gleaming  knife.  I 
felt  that  my  hour  had  come.  And  yet  it 
was  not  the  glittering  blade  that  filled  me 
with  horror,  so  much  as  the  pitiless,  demo- 
niac expression  of  those  eyes  glaring  from 
out  their  deep  sockets.     The  blood  froze  in 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  17 

my  veins.  All  power  of  resistance  or  of 
motion  was  gone.  I  could  even  feel  the 
keen  point  of  the  knife  entering  my  quiver- 
ing flesh,  before,  with  one  last,  desperate 
effort,  I  succeeded  in  throwing  off  the  death- 
like stupor.  Happily,  that  final  effort  availed, 
and,  raising  myself  in  the  attitude  of  re-^ 
sistance,  I  awoke  —  awoke  to  hear  my  new 
friend,  who  yet  remained  peaceably  in  bed, 
make  our  room  resound  with  certain  nasal 
sounds,  which,  if  not  as  musical  as  one 
could  wish,  were  not  just  then  wholly  un- 
welcome. 

Morning  dawned  clear  and  beautiful, 
showing  a  more  preposessing  face  on  the 
person  of  my  suspected  room-mate.  He 
was  from  the  good  city  of  Hartford,  Conn., 
and,  from  motives  similar  to  my  own,  had 
secured,  as  he  supposed,  a  state-room  to 
himself,  and  having  the  key  to  the  only 
2 


18  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

empty  state-room^ — "forty-nine," — was  as 
much  astonished  at  finding  it  occupied,  as 
I  was  at  being  intruded  upon. 

"  But,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  I  had  no 
objections  to  passing  the  night  with  you  !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "   I  asked. 

^'  Because  I  knew  you  to  be  an  honest 
man ! " 

"  Ah,  how  did  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  From  your  anxiety  to  be  alone.'* 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  19 


DEATH    ON    THE    PRAIRIE. 

The  long,  terribly  cold  winter  was  nearly 
over,  when  my  hibernating  was  enlivened 
by  a  caller,  —  a  man  of  some  note  with 
us,  having  traits  which  mark  the  frontier 
chieftain. 

Brave,  and  physically  powerful,  he  some- 
times takes  the  law  into  his  own  hands,  and 
settles  quarrels.  Not  a  few  "  new-country  " 
dififerences,  of  threatening  aspect,  have  van 
ished  before  his  stalwart  form.  As  when, 
for  example,  a  tempting  "  claim "  was  in 
dispute,  and  the  rival  party  had  gathered  in 
force  to  drive  the  other  away.  Coolly  lis- 
tening to  the  altercation,  he  would  espouse 
the  side  he  judged  in  the  right,  —  perhaps 


20  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

the  weaker  ;  then,  laying  aside  his  coat, 
as  their  champion,  offer  to  decide  the  case 
by  an  appeal  to  muscular  force,  announcing 
himself  ready  to  meet  "  any  three  "  of  the 
trespassers.  But,  however,  the  challenge 
was  not  accepted.  Whether  the  sight  of 
that  huge  fist  excited  fear,  or  conscience, 
or  both,  it  proved  a  potent  pacificator. 

He  was  also  well  read,  —  a  fluent  public 
speaker,  when  once  under  way,  and  in  de- 
bate, an  opponent  not  to  be  despised.  A 
politician,  too,  he  had  graced  more  than 
one  new  State  legislature.  And  though  in 
his  early  days  in  Maine  he  stood  well  as 
a  church-member,  he  was  now,  alas !  an 
avowed  skeptic  ;  —  perhaps  not  a  strange 
sequence  to  years  of  migratory  life  in  Cali- 
fornia and  the  West. 

Many  a  fine  chat  had  Mr.  B.  and  I  en- 
joyed   together,   seated    before  the    ample 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  21 

clay-stick-and-stoiie  fireplace  in  his  cabin, 
as  he  solaced  himself  with  his  pipe  of  an 
evening ;  and  though,  at  times,  I  pressed 
home  the  claim^  of  religion,  he  was  not 
offended,  if  not  convinced.  But  this  was 
before  the  fierce  wintery  blockade  had  cut 
off  neighborly  intercourse. 

The  object  of  his  call  was  at  once  stated. 
It  appeared  that,  recently,  having  got  out 
of  supplies,   he   had   ventured   to   break   a 

road   to   M ,  a  settlement  eleven  miles 

distant,  to  buy  flour  and  other  stores. 
While  there,  he  heard  that  a  lad,  twelve 
years  of  age,  was  frozen  to  death  on  the 
prairie,  the  first  of  the  season,  and  that  the 
parents  were  so  deeply  afflicted  that  it  was 
feared  the  mother's  reason  would  be  un- 
settled. His  sympathies  being  stirred,  he 
visited  the  sorrowing  household  to  offer  con- 
solation.    To  his  surprise,  his  words  were 


22  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

powerless.  Nothing  he  could  say,  however 
kind  or  well-reasoned,  reached  their  case ; 
and,  baffled,  he  saw  they  needed  divine  sym- 
pathy, of  which  he  could  not  speak.  He 
advised  them,  therefore,  to  call  in  a  Chris- 
tian minister. 

Weepingly,  they  rejoined  that  they  knew 
not  as  there  was  one  in  all  the  region. 

"  There  is  one  tarrying  in  my  neighbor- 
hood," he  replied,  "  and  I  doubt  not  he 
will  cheerfully  come,  preach  a  funeral  dis- 
course at  your  house,  and  do  all  he  can 
for  your  peace  of  mind. 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  after  narrating  the 
above,  "  if  you  will  set  a  time  to  go  over, 
I  will  carry  them  word,  that  they  may 
arrange  for  your  coming,  and  give  due  no- 
tice of  the  sermon." 

It  was  with  no  little  satisfaction  that  I 
made  the  appointment.     For  what  more  ex- 


ON   THE   FRONTIEK.  23 

alted  privilege  than  to  bear  the  balm  of 
the  gospel  to  bleeding  hearts !  Moreover, 
the  testimony  my  infidel  friend  had  thus 
unwittingly  borne  to  Christianity,  was  ex- 
ceedingly gratifying,  and  led  me  to  hope 
for  his  further  enlightenment. 

The   day   set  for  the  services  at  M 

dawned  calm  and  clear,  with  a  slight  re- 
lenting of  the  cold.  A  good  brother  had 
offered  the  use  of  his  handsome  span  and 
a  generous  pair  of  "  runners,"  and  calling 
for  Mr.  B.,  who,  with  a  show  of  reluctance, 
consented  to  accompany  us,  we  set  out.  A 
choir  had  been  extemporized  for  the  occa- 
sion. It  was  composed  of  persons  origi- 
nally from  various  States  and  from  Canada, 
a  miniature  specimen  of  western  society. 
Strewing  the  bottom  of  the  long  pung  with 
clean  straw,  and  taking  our  seats  thereon, 
the  better  to  screen  us  from  the  sharp,  frosty 


24  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

air,  and  carefully  enveloped  in  blankets  and 
buflfalo  robes,  the  ride  was  made  quite  com- 
fortable. 

"There's- the  house!"  said  Mr.  B.,  at 
length,  as  we  began  to  ascend  a  swell  of 
land,  on  which  stood  a  pretty  painted  cot- 
tage, reminding  one  of  New  England.  On 
the  extended  ridge  grew  the  burr  oak,  with 
almost  the  regularity  of  cultivation,  —  pro- 
ducing the  illusion  that  we  were  passing 
through  an  eastern  orchard.  In  the  back- 
ground were  cleared  fields,  well  fenced,  and 
the  river  belted  with  forest  trees.  It  was 
a  charming  place,  and  an  exclamation  of 
delight  broke  from  our  company.  One 
glance  assured  us  that  this  was  the  abode 
of  taste  and  thrift.  The  interest  awakened 
by  exteriors  was  not  lessened  when  I  met 
the  inmates.  Tlie  master  of  the  house  im- 
pressed me  as  a  large-hearted,  industrious 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  25 

man  in  his  business  enterprises,  and  in  social 
relations  kind  and  affectionate.  His  wife 
and  a  married  sister  entered  the  room  soon 
after  our  arrival,  neatly  dressed  in  mourn- 
ing ;  the  former  pale  and  worn  ;  the  gentle, 
refined  face  of  the  latter,  sad  and  sympa- 
thizing. They  were  from  Vermont,  accus- 
tomed to  the  best  influences  of  that  goodly 
State,  the  stamp  of  which  was  indelibly 
placed  on  them. 

The  story  of  the  parent's  sorrow  was 
heart-touching. 

Judson,  the  son  they  mourned,  was  the 
eldest  of  five  children, —  a  child  of  promise  ; 
"  the  flower  of  the  family,"  as  the  neigh- 
bors expressed  it.  He  had  a  mind  mature 
beyond  his  years,  and  was  a  dutiful  son. 
For  some  weeks  before  his  decease,  a  change 
had  taken  place  in  his  health.  Without 
any  known  cause,  his  bodily  strength  wasted. 


26  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

And,  on  the  subject  of  religion,  his  feelings 
became  tender  and  earnest.  That  ripemng 
for  the  Reaper,  by  unearthly  culture,  some- 
times witnessed  in  children,  despite  the  most 
unpropitious  circumstances,  just  ere  they 
pass  away,  was  his  blessed  experience.  Deep 
questions  about  God  and  Christ  and  Heaven 
he  revolved  by  himself.  Questions  of  duty 
he  was  often  propounding  to  the  parents' 
slumbering  consciences.  His  father  had 
been  a  consistent  member  of  the  church, 
and  faithful  in  family  duties  years  before, 
but  in  the  absorbing  cares  of  frontier  life, 
and  the  destitution  of  religious  privileges, 
becoming  backslidden,  he  had  forsaken  the 
family  altar,  and  his  conversation  was  utter- 
ly worldly.  The  son,  with  shadows  of  eter- 
nity deepening  on  his  pathway,  and  the 
Spirit  gently  leading  him,  became  unhappy 
in     view    of    the    parental    shortcomings. 


ON   THE    FEONTIER.  27 

With  tearful,  pleading  eyes,  he  would  often 
say,  "  Oh,  why  don't  father  read  the  Bible 
and  have  prayers  as  he  used  to,  mother  ?  " 

And  the  mother  would  ponder  these  things 
in  her  heart. 

One  day  an  elk  had  been  shot  some  three 
miles  out  on  the  prairie,  and  a  party  were 
going  with  a  wagon  to  bring  it  in.  Watson 
Freeman,  a  companion  of  Judson's,  and 
two  years  his  senior,  was  going  with  the 
hunters,  and  Judson  asked  his  mother's 
permission  to  accompany  him.  Contrary  to 
her  custom,  for  she  watched  over  her  idol 
with  jealous  care,  she  gav^  her  consent, 
"  scarcely  knowing,"  as  she  told  me,  '*  what 
she  said."  The  boys,  as  the  team  went 
slowly,  soon  got  out  and  followed  on  behind. 
Excited  by  the  expedition,  they  noticed  not 
that  the  horses  were  gradually  leaving  them, 
till  a  great  weariness  fell  on  the  more  deli- 


28  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

cate  of  the  two.  He  complained  of  being 
too  tired  to  walk,  and  his  young  friend 
called  to  the  men :  •'  Stop  a  moment  and 
let  Judson  get  in.     He's  tired  !  " 

"  Can't  wait,"  replied  the  hunter  ;  "  if  he 
wants  to  ride  he  must  run  and  catch  up  !  " 

The  poor  boy  tried  to  rouse  himself  to 
hasten,  but  in  vain. 

His  companion,  alarmed,  entreated  the 
driver  to  w^ait,  saying,  '•  Do  stop,  just  a  mo- 
ment, Judson's  so  weak  !  Do  let  him  get 
in ;  he  can't  run  a  step  ;  he  can  scarcely 
walk  ! " 

"  Well,  let  him  stay  where  he  is,  then  ! " 
was  the  rough  answer.  "  If  he's  too  much 
of  a  baby  to  walk  he  ought  to  have  staid 
at  home  1 "  And  quickly  the  wagon  was 
out  of  sight. 

Meanwhile  the  cold  increased.  The  sky 
became  overcast.     And  a  snow-squall,  such 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  29 

as  frequently  sweeps  the  prairies  of  the 
north-west  in  late  autumn,  set  in.  The 
blinding  flakes  were  whirled  about  with  the 
fury  peculiar  to  the  storm  where  the  wind, 
unobstructed,  gathers  mightiest  force,  and 
the  enfeebled  boy  felt  a  deathly  chill  strik- 
ing to  his  vitals,  and  said,  **  0  Watson,  I'm 
freezing  to  death  !  " 

His  companion  saw  the  danger,  and,  ex- 
posing himself  to  the  terrible  air,  as  he  took 
off  his  own  coat,  and  wrapped  his  friend  in 
it,  he  replied,  cheerfully,  "  There  !  that  will 
keep  you  warm,  I  guess.  Now  take  hold 
of  my  hand,  and  we'll  go  right  home.  I'll 
help  you  all  I  can.  I  can  find  the  way !  " 
And,  turning  about,  they  started  for  the 
settlement. 

Those  who  have  known,  as  I  have,  the 
hardy  pioneer  to  become  bewildered  and 
lost  close  to  his  own  dwelling,  when  over- 


30  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

taken  by  one  of  those  violent  tornado-like 
storms,  his  cries  for  help  drowned  in  the 
roar  of  the  tempest,  will  understand  the 
'nature  of  the  task  which  that  brave  young 
heart  proposed  to  itself. 

An  instance  of  the  kind  occurred  about 
the  time  of  the  event  I  am  relating.  A 
settler,  experienced  in  frontier  life,  had  gone 
to  attend  to  his  cattle,  which  were  yarded 
in  a  temporary  rail  enclosure,  a  few  rods 
from  his  cabin.  While  busied  there,  sud- 
denly the  dusky  win£3  of  the  snow-tempest 
obscured  the  heavens.  Hastily  finishing  his 
task,  he  started  for  home.  Already  every 
object  was  hidden  in  the  awful  gloom,  and 
how  the  maddened  gusts  charged  upon, 
and  smote  and  baffled  him  !  —  pelting  him 
with  the  cruel  sleet ;  filling  eyes  and  nos- 
trils, nay,  almost  burying  him  with  the 
driving  drifts.     The  sharp  coldness  cut  to 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  31 

the  bones.  The  whole  air  was  in  commo- 
tion,—  hissing,  howling,  wailing,  groaning. 
Downward  rushed  the  heavy  snow-clouds, 
upward  shot  opposing  columns,  with  sur- 
prising speed  and  strength ;  from  every 
quarter  to  every  quarter  the  whirlwind 
hurled  the  swift  moving  flakes.  He  had 
cleared  forests  in  Michigan,  and  conquered 
hardships  in  prairie-land,  but  now  the 
strong  man  was  at  his  wit's  end  ;  hoping 
each  moment,  as  he  was  tossed  about  in 
the  mighty  tumult,  to  reach  his  destination, 
only  to  be  perplexed  in  his  disappointment. 
Meanwhile,  the  families  at  home  —  for  two 
occupied  the  dwelling — had  become  alarmed 
for  him.  Two  stout  men  set  off  for  his 
rescue,  shouting  his  name.  They  returned, 
unable  to  cope  with  the  rage  of  the  ele- 
ments. Getting  their  guns,  they  made  an- 
other attempt.     The  report  of  the  firearms 


32  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

reached  the  lost  man's  ear.  He  had  been 
whirled  about  near  the  locality  from  whence 
he  had  started :  and  when  the  sound  of 
the  gun  reached  him,  in  his  bewilderment, 
he  was  going  directly  out  to  the  solitudes 
of  the  prairie.  A  moment  more  and  he 
would  have  been  beyond  recovery. 

It  was  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  nearest 
dwelling,  and  they  had  gone  only  a  few 
rods,  when  Watson  perceived  his  playmate 
could  proceed  no  further,  and,  with  a  hero- 
ism beyond  his  years,  he  took  him  on  his 
back  and  bore  him  on,  on  ;  the  raging  winds 
disputing  the  way,  and  the  snow  beating 
against  him  pitilessly. 

Three  quarters  of  a  mile  —  the  neighbors 
afterward  estimated  —  did  that  noble  boy 
carry  his  precious  burden,  nerved  to  strange 
strength  by  the  love  that  was  in  his  heart, 
and    the   consciousness   that   life   or   death 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  33 

hung  on  the  issue.  But  the  hands  about 
his  neck  relaxed  their  hold,  and  his  own 
step  faltered  ;  so,  coming  to  a  lonely  oak, 
he  leaned  his  charge  against  it,  and  cover- 
ing him  up  carefully  with  the  over-garment, 
bidding  him  not  to  be  afraid,  fled  for  help. 

As  soon  as  possible,  he  returned  with  a 
wagon,  accompanied  by  its  owner  and  a 
neighbor.  By  the  side  of  the  tree  they 
found  him,  covered  with  a  fleecy  robe,  sitting 
there  still  and  silent,  a  faint  trembling  of 
the  pulse  was  all  that  told  that  life  was  not 
extinct.  What  had  been  his  thoughts  there 
alone  amid  th'e  wild  storm  ;  what  the  tena- 
city with  which  his  young  heart  clung  to 
life,  —  the  yearnings  for  father,  mother, 
little  brothers  ;  what  the  agonized  soul-cries 
that  ascended  above  the  voices  of  the  tem- 
pest, piercing  heaven,  or  what  visions  of 
angel  ministrants  strengthening  him  in  the 
3 


34  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

last  conscious  struggle,  there  was  none  to 
tell.  He  was  speechless.  Laying  him  gen- 
tly in  the  vehicle,  they  drove  for  his  home. 
Bursting  open  the  door,  they  bore  the  child 
in,  —  rash,  kind  men  !  Judson  was  dead  ! 
Not  an  intimation  had  the  parents  received 
that  evil  had  befallen  their  son,  since  a  few 
short  hours  before  he  had  gone  forth  in  his 
young  joy.  The  blow  fell  with  stunning 
force,  it  was  so  sudden,  so  unexpected ;  and 
while  the  father  was  sorely  stricken,  the 
mother  mourned  in  an  agony  that  "  refused 
to  be  comforted." 

"■  Oh,  that  he  had  been  taken  away  from 
before  our  eyes  by  disease,  then  we  might 
have  been  prepared  for  it!"  she  exclaimed. 
*'  But  to  have  him  perish  all  alone,  with  no 
one  near  to  speak  to,  no  one  by  to  soothe 
his  last  moments  !  Left,  too,  so  brutally  by 
neighbors  who,  if  they  had  been  at  all  hu 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  35 

mane,  might  have  saved  him  from  such  a 
fate.  And  to  bury  him  without  a  minister 
of  the  gospel  to  speak  to  us  from  God's 
word,  and  offer  prayer,  it  was  so  revolting, 
so  dreadful !  '^ 

"  Did  you  have  no  funeral  service  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Yes ;  but  it  was  so  different  from  what 
we  needed,  and  from  what  we  had  been 
accustomed  to.  We  were  told  that  a  settler, 
three  miles  from  here,  a  smart  capable  man, 
was  a  preacher.  And,  although  he  was  a 
Universalist,  rather  than  have  none  of  the 
offices  appropriate  to  such  an  event,  my  hus- 
band invited  him  to  officiate.  He  made 
some  remarks,  but  did  not  pray,  saying  he 
was  not  used  to  praying.  And  so  my  boy 
was  buried !  We  have  never  felt  right 
about  that  funeral,  and  when  I  heard  of 
you,  I  felt  so  glad !     I   have  not  heard  a 


36  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

sermon  for  more  than  two  years,  yet  I  prize 
such  privileges." 

But  silently  the  neighbors  had  assembled 
from  miles  around,  some  on  foot,  more  in 
ox-teams.  The  rooms  were  crowded  with 
an  intelligent,  strongly-marked  audience, 
decorous  and  sympathizing.  A  deep  hush 
was  over  all  as  I  read  those  solemn,  sweetly- 
consoling  passages  in  the  Bible  that  lead 
the  thoughts  from  the  perishable  to  the 
unchangeable,  and  reveal  the  life  to  come. 
How  wondrously  significant  were  they  in 
that  grief-shadowed,  pioneer  home !  And 
how  touching  the  oft-sung  hymn,  — 

««Thus  fades  the  lovely,  blooming  flower, 
Frail,  smiling  solace  of  an  hour  !  " 

Never,  however,  had  I  read  those  fine  words 
of  Cowper  with  such  effect :  — 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  37 

<«  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 
His  wonders  to  perform  ; 
He  plants  his  footsteps  on  the  sea, 
And  rides  upon  the  storm." 

And  I  felt  impressed  to  say,  alluding  to  the 
providential  and  gracious  preparation  of  the 
lad  for  the  sudden  coming  of  the  messenger, 
that,  if  the  bereaved  would  seek  grace  to 
look  away  from  secondary  causes  up  to  the 
great  First  Cause,  confiding  in  his  wisdom 
and  love,  I  felt  confident  they  would  yet  see 
proofs  of  a  kind  design  in  their  affliction, 
and  learn  that  by  it  God  intended  signal 
good  to  themselves  and  others  ;  a  remark 
which  subsequent  events  justified.  But  I 
will  not  anticipate. 

The  mother's  sorrowful  face  haunted  me 
all  the  way  during  the  ride  back.  Few 
words  were  spoken  by  our  little  company, 
before  so  companionable.  The  gloom  of 
the  death-room  was  on   us  all.     The   very 


38  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

landscape  seemed  in  unison  with  the  scene 
we  had  left,  as  it  stretched  away  to  the 
horizon,  smooth  and  treeless,  wrapped  in 
its  fleecy  shroud.  As  I  glanced  athwart  the 
long,  dull  level,  I  thought  of  the  races  that 
once  held  possession  here,  now  gone.  What 
was  that  great  solitude  but  a  vast  city  of 
the  dead,  without  a  memento  ?  Only  one 
living  thing  appeared  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  On  a  gently  swelling  mound  near 
by,  scarcely  distinguishable,  in  its  garb  of 
pure  white,  from  the  snowy  hillock,  sat  a 
large  Arctic  bird  (^strix  nyctea).  Natural- 
ists say  that  nearly  all  the  notes  of  birds 
are  plaintive.  With  a  moaning  scream,  like 
one  in  distress,  the  bird  soared  over  us,  his 
eagle  size  and  swan-like  plumage  adding 
majesty  to  his  lonely  flight.  The  whole 
was  in  unison  with  the  sad  emotions  that 
ruled  our  hearts. 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  39 

"  I  thank  you  for  calling  for  me,"  said  my 
infidel  friend,  as  he  stepped  out  of  the  sleigh 
at  his  gate. 

"  And  I  thank  you^^^  I  replied,  "  for  open- 
ing the  way  for  Christian  labor  on  behalf  of 
that  afflicted  family.  If  it  benefits  them, 
you  brought  it  about.  And  my  prayer  is, 
that  it  may  do  us  all  good  !  '* 

"I  hope  it  may,"  he  rejoined,  with  a 
tremulous  voice,  as  he  entered  his  door. 

The  driver  was  not  so  much  to  blame  as 
at  first  appeared.  He  did  not  realize  that 
the  boy  was  so  feeble.  Many  kind-hearted 
people,  blessed  with  health,  cannot  be  made 
to  understand  the  condition  of  those  less 
favored  in  this  regard.  How  often  the  in- 
curably diseased,  suffering  indescribable  hor- 
rors, subjected  to  the  slow-wasting  power 
of  some  chronic  complaint,  are  contemptu- 
ously treated  by  those  who  might  cheer  their 


40  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

gloom  and  soften  their  hard  lot.  Ah  !  dear 
reader,  let  us  never  be  wanting  in  tenderest 
sympathy  toward  the  frail,  sensitive  invalid, 
soon  perhaps  to  be  hidden  from  our  sight 
by  the  clinging  turf. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  41 


GOING    FOR    LUMBER. 

Autumn's  breath  was  growing  frosty,  re- 
minding us  that  Winter  was  on  his  way, 
and  our  house  was  still  unfinished ;  the 
floors  were  yet  to  be  laid,  and  the  roof 
boarded  and  shingled.  The  neighbor  who 
volunteered  to  '^  draw  the  minister's  lum- 
ber," had  taken  long  journeys  with  that 
object  in  view,  but  witliout  accomplishing 
his  purpose,  for  the  mills  could  not  supply 
the  demand,  so  great  had  been  the  immi- 
gration.    So  I  resolved  to  go  for  it  myself. 

But  every  thing  available,  biped  and 
quadruped,  was  over-busy,  and  as  I  had  no 
"  team,"  a  further  delay  seemed  inevitable, 
when  relief  came  from  an  unexpected  quar- 


42  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

ter.  A  Xorwegian  —  a  semi-Americanized, 
good  man,  hearing  of  my  situation,  called 
to  offer  the  use  of  his  cattle.  He  had  them 
with  him,  a  yoke  of  young,  sharp-horned 
brindles,  trim  and  muscular,  with  bright, 
undaunted  eyes. 

Now,  within  the  year,  I  had  landed,  an 
invalid,  in  Minnesota.  Forbidden,  by  my 
physicians,  to  preach  for  at  least  two  years, 
I  had,  after  the  first  few  weeks,  farmed, 
carpentered,  felled  trees,  split  rails,  quarried 
stone,  practiced  medicine,  taught  school, 
&c.,  besides  performing  usual  Sabbath  labor. 
Having  resolved  to  "  take  things  by  the 
smooth  handle,"  I  had  found  no  little  hap- 
piness in  my  many-sided  life,  but  the  pros- 
pect of  a  long  journey  with  oxen  did  not 
look  attractive  I  confess. 

''  Why,  my  friend,"  said  I  to  tlie  Nor- 
wegian,  "  it  is   twenty-seven   miles   to   the 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  43 

nearest  mill !  I  haven't  patience  to  go  that 
distance  with  cattle,  they  are  so  slow." 

"  Mine  are  fast  enough,"  he  replied. 
"  I  will  match  them  against  the  best  horses 
about  here.  I  always  trot  them  when  they 
haven't  a  heavy  load.  You'll  find  them 
nimble,  I'll  warrant !  " 

It  was  no  time  to  be  finical,  and  I  asked, 
"  When  can  I  have  them  ?  " 

"  To-night,"  said  he.  "  I .  will  leave 
them  here  and  walk  home.  It  is  only  six 
miles !  " 

The  wagon-body  was  weak,  and  he  re- 
quested that  I  procure  another.  I  obtained 
one  at  last ;  an  unwieldy  affair,  so  heavy 
that  three  of  us  found  it  something  of  a 
task  to  adjust  it  to  the  wheels  —  a  veritable 
Pennsylvanian — long  enough,  as  they  of 
the  Quaker  State  say,  "  to  reach  from  one 
mud-hole  to  the  next." 


4-i  ON   THE    FUONTIER. 

The  next  morning  1  had  mounted  to  the 
board  seat,  with  my  long  teamster's  whip, 
when  a  gentle  voice  called  from  the  door,  — 

"  Bring  the  wagon  back  safely  if  you 
can  !  " 

The  musical  little  laugh  that  accom- 
panied this  sally  had  something  of  fore- 
boding in  it. 

For  a  while  the  path  lay  across  prairie 
solitudes,  unrelieved,  save  by  a  lively  diver- 
gence now  and  then  by  the  cattle,  made  in 
the  spirit  of  mischief.  Often,  too,  a  "  prairie 
hen  "  would  run  on  before  the  team,  keep- 
ing a  few  feet  ahead,  then  fly  off,  with  a 
whirring  sound,  into  the  long  grass. 

Seven  miles,  and  "  Slougli  Creek "  was 
reached — a  willow- fringed, bridgeless  stream. 
Aligliting,  I  was  calculating,  by  the  aid  of 
a  long  pole,  the  depth  of  water  and  mud, 
and  the  steepness  of  the  banks,  when  I  was 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  45 

forced  to  run  for  the  wagon,  and  managed 
to  jump  in  behind,  just  as  it  was  going  into 
the  gulf,  for  the  brindles  had  concluded 
to  wait  no  longer.  Down  we  went,  with  a 
plunge  and  a  shock,  and  up  the  other  side 
at  a  round  trot,  the  freakish  creatures 
keeping  on,  in  spite  of  me,  across  a  level 
meadow,  through  a  bristling  array  of  black- 
berry and  other  bushes,  to  a  log  house. 
There  they  stopped.  I  got  out  to  turn  them 
into  the  path  again,  but  they  ran  round  and 
round  the  cabin.  In  a  few  moments  a 
woman  came  out,  and  comprehending  my 
trouble,  seized  the  whip,  and  laying  the 
lash  on  with  her  brawny  arm,  soon  brought 
the  cattle  into  subjection.  They  suffered 
her  to  guide  them  into  the  road.  She  dis- 
appeared, as  I  thanked  her  in  pantomime  — 
for  she  was  a  Norwegian,  as  unable  to  speak 
my   language   as  I  liers,  and   the  brindles 


46  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

would  not  act  as  interpreters,  yet  that  they 
understood  her  perfectly,  and  my  English 
somewhat,  I  could  not  doubt. 

It  was  once  more  "  smooth  sailing,"  and 
as  the  beasts  behayed  for  a  time  with  ex- 
emplary steadiness,  for  want  of  something 
else  to  do  I  fell  to  reconsidering  the  figure 
I  had  just  cut,  and  trying  to  comprehend 
the  character  and  qualities  of  my  horned 
steeds.  What  sagacity  they  showed  in 
choice  of  opportunity  when  about  to  execute 
a  wild  prank !  how  ungovernable  they  be- 
came toward  me,  yet  obedient  to  a  woman's 
voice  and  hand  !  I  at  once  recalled  a  humor- 
ous description  I  had  read  of  pig-driving  in 
Ireland.  The  writer  says,  wittily,  there  was 
in  Ireland  an  old  breed  of  swine,  which  is 
now  nearly  extinct,  except  in  some  remote 
parts  of  the  country,  where  they  are  still 
useful  in  the  hunting   season,  particularly 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  47 

if  dogs  happen  to  be  scarce.  (He  assures 
John  Bull,  on  the  authority  of  Phil  Purcel, 
pig-driver,  that  this  is  a  fact.)  They  were 
a  tall,  loose  species,  with  legs  of  an  unusual 
length,  with  no  flesh,  short  ears,  as  if  they 
had  been  cropped  for  sedition,  and  with  long 
faces  of  a  highly  intellectual  cast.  They 
were  also  of  such  activity  that  few  grey- 
hounds could  clear  a  ditch  or  cross  a  field 
with  more  agility.  Their  backs  formed  a 
rainbow  arch,  capable  of  being  contracted 
or  extended  to  an  inconceivable  degree  ; 
and  their  usual  rate  of  travelling  in  droves 
was  at  mail-coach  speed,  or  six  Irish  miles 
an  hour,  preceded  by  an  outrider  to  clear 
the  way,  whilst  their  rear  was  brought  up  by 
another  horseman,  going  at  a  three-quarter 
gallop  1  In  the  middle  of  summer,  when 
all  Nature  reposed  under  the  united  influ- 
ence of  heat  and  dust,  it  was  an  interesting 


48  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

sight  to  witness  a  drove  of  them  sweeping 
past,  like  a  whirlwind,  in  a  cloud  of  their 
own  raising ;  their  sharp  and  lengthy  out- 
iines  dimly  visible  through  the  shining  haze, 
like  a  flock  of  antelopes  crossing  the  deserts 
of  the  East.  Their  patriotism,  also,  as  evinced 
in  an  attachment  to  the  land  of  their  birth 
and  Irish  habits,  was  scarcely  more  remark- 
able than  their  sagacity.  There  was  not, 
the  distinguished  author  assures  us,  an  an- 
tiquarian among  that  learned  and  useful 
body,  the  Irish  Academy,  who  could  boast 
such  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  Irish  lan- 
guage, in  all  its  shades  of  meaning  and  idio- 
matic beauty,  as  did  this  once  flourishing 
class  of  animals.  Not  that  they  were  con- 
fined to  the  Irish  tongue,  many  of  them  un- 
derstood English  too ;  and  it  was  said  of 
those  that  belonged  to  a  convent,  the  mem- 
bers  of  which,   in    their    intercourse   with 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  49 

each  other,  spoke  only  in  Latin,  that  they 
were  tolerable  masters  of  that  language, 
and  refused  to  leave  a  potato  field,  or  plot 
of  cabbages,  except  when  addressed  in  it. 
To  the  English  tongue,  however,  they  had 
a  deep-rooted  antipathy ;  whether  proceed- 
ing from  the  national  feeling,  or  the  fact 
of  its  not  being  sufficiently  guttural,  is  not 
affirmed ;  be  this  as  it  may,  says  the  writer 
referred  to,  it  must  be  admitted  that  they 
were  excellent  Irish  scholars,  and  paid  a 
surprising  degree  of  deference  and  obedi- 
ence to  whatever  was  addressed  to  them  in 
their  own  language.  For  a  critical  knowl- 
edge of  their  native  tongue  they  were  un- 
rivalled by  the  most  learned  pigs  or  anti- 
quarians of  their  day ;  none  of  either  class 
possessing,  at  that  period,  such  a  knowledge 
of  Irish  manners,  nor  so  keen  a  sagacity 
in  tracing  out  Irish  roots. 
4 


60  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

I  was  adjusting  this  description,  hyperbole 
and  all,  to  my  case,  substituting  cattle  for 
swine,  and  Norwegian  for  Irish,  when  my 
coniparisons  were  brought  to  a  pause.  We 
had  entered  primitive  forests,  belting  a  river 
which  flowed  through  loftily  rounded  bluffs. 
From  the  edge  of  the  woods  I  could  see  that 
the  road  wound  down  among  the  trees  by  a 
long,  yet  rapid  descent,  often  making  a  curve 
to  avoid  a  stump,  rock,  or  tree.  So  I  took 
my  place  by  the  cattle,  resting  my  whip 
across  their  faces,  to  check  undue  speed  ; 
but  soon,  with  an  impetuous  charge,  away 
they  went,  the  axles  frequently  grazing  the 
oaks,  the  heavy  vehicle  imparting  dangerous 
momentum,  till,  dashing  through  the  shal- 
low stream,  as  tliey  could  not  fly  up  the 
opposite  bluff*,  I  overtook  them. 

My  attention  was  now  called  to  a  pecul- 
iarity   in    the    road.      "We    had    ascended 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  61 

gradually,  till  we  were  crossing  bare  rock 
at  a  suspicious  angle,  and  still  the  way  grew 
steep.  Thinking  I  must  have  missed  the 
path,  and  that  a  track  I  saw  a  few  moments 
before  might  be  the  true  one,  I  stopped  the 
cattle  and  hastened  to  examine  it,  with  a 
frequent  "  whoa  !  "  The  result  showed  that 
we  were  on  the  right  road.  Returning,  I 
found  that  the  cattle,  with  a  quick  move- 
ment, had  gained  the  apex  of  the  hill,  and 
there  they  stood,  ranged  along  the  verge  of 
a  precipice  of  at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet !  The  slightest  false  movement  might 
send  them  over.  As  carefully  as  possible,  I 
turned  them  down  to  the  road  again,  —  and 
they  were  models  of  docility  the  while,  —  but 
the  instant  it  was  done,  they  wheeled  about, 
throwing  the  vehicle  completely  over,  and 
steamed  toward  home,  leaving  the  wagon- 
body  on  the  side  of  the   rock,  and  further 


62  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

down  the  hind  wheels ;  and  recrossing  the 
river,  they  sped  up  the  other  declivity,  while 
I  shouted  most  despairingly  after  them.  By 
taking  a  bee  line,  however,  I  succeeded  in 
Tjoming  out  in  front  of  them  before  they 
emerged  upon  the  smooth  prairie.  Then, 
there  was  the  righting  of  the  front  wheels, 
the  attaching  of  the  others,  the  guiding  of 
the  perverse  animals  up  the  bluff  to  the 
ponderous  wagon-body.  Where  should  I  get 
help  to  replace  it,  in  that  lonely  place,  sel- 
dom trodden  by  human  foot  ?  I  felt  that 
this  was  an  extremity,  and  for  a  moment 
could  do  nothing  but  pray.  Then  I  looked 
up  the  winding  path  I  had  come,  hoping 
to  see  some  friendly  face.  None  appeared. 
Meanwhile  the  cattle  were  restless.  So, 
summoning  all  my  energy,  —  the  energy  of 
desperation, —  to  my  own  wonder,  I  raised 
the   huge  wreck  from  its  resting-place  and 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  53 

adjusted  it  to  the  wheels,  and  in  due  time 
reached  the  mill  village. 

"  Have  you  any  lumber  ? "  I  asked  of 
the  mill  owner. 

"  No ;  I  let  the  last  go  this  morning,"  he 

replied.    "  A  man  was  here  from  L ,  and 

said  he  must  have  some  for  his  own  house 
and  some  for  his  minister's.  I  let  him  have 
a  few  boards  to  keep  him  from  suffering, 
though  I  needed  them  myself.     Perhaps  you 

are    the    minister    from    L ?    Well,   I 

thought  likely.  But  I  haven't  a  chip  left. 
Which  way  did  you  come  ? " 

"  Across     R River,    through     the 

woods." 

"  No  wonder  you've  been  cast  away ; 
it's  a  terrible  road.  Let  me  advise  you  to 
take  the  other  route  going  back ;  it  will 
be  prairie  mostly,  and  though  further,  will 
be  easier." 


64  ON  THE  FRONTIER., 

"I  shall  do  so.  But  what  is  that?'' 
I  asked,  as  my  eyes  rested  on  the  end  of  a 
board  protruding  from  a  mass  of  timber. 

"  Well,  that  does  look  like  a  board,"  said 
the  easy  proprietor,  "  but  it  would  be  a  job 
to  get  it  out." 

And  he  turned  away,  while  I  turned  over 
the  oak  timber  till  I  had  obtained  more  of  a 
supply  than  the  neighbor  that  preceded  me. 

"  Six  miles  to  the  Norwegian,"  said  the 
mill  man,  as  I  was  starting  off.  "  You  had 
better  inquire  the  way  of  him,  as  the  road 
is  a  blind  one,  and  he  knows  all  about  it." 

The  afternoon  was  half  gone,  but  I  hoped 

to  reach  a  settlement  on  R River,  and 

spend  the  night  there.  But  the  chapter  of 
accidents  was  not  full.  As  I  was  ascending 
from  the  low  village  plot,  the  pins  that  held 
the  bows  in  the  yokes  dropped  out  in  con- 
cert, as  if  in  memory  of  past  joltings,  let- 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  55 

ting  the  cattle  free ;  of  which  casualty, 
they  were  not  slow  to  take  advantage,  scam- 
pering off  like  wild  buffaloes.  In  vain  I 
used  all  the  arts  of  which  I  was  master, 
seeking  to  coax,  surprise,  or  drive  them  into 
the  bows  again,  which  I  bore  with  me  for 
the  purpose.  If  for  a  moment  they  stopped 
to  graze,  it  was  with  one  eye  on  me,  ready 
to  spring  away  at  my  approach.  Help  ap- 
peared, however,  in  the  person  of  a  map 
agent,  just  from  New  England,  having  left 
college,  and  come  West  for  his  health.  He 
recognized  me  at  a  distance,  and  filled  with 
compassion,  hastened  to  the  rescue  as  fast  as 
his  lame  leg,  made  stiff  by  a  rheumatic 
affection,  would  permit.  The  scene  now 
became  ludicrous  in  the  extreme,  and  I 
laughed  till  the  tears  came,  at  my  own 
plight  and  the  figure  my  earnest  friend  cut, 
dragging  his  troublesome  limb  after  him,  as 


56  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

he  tried  to  head  the  cattle.  Farm  bred,  the 
crook  of  his  arm  and  his  intonations  were 
rural,  to  perfection,  but,  as  if  aware  of  his 
infirmity,  the  wily  brutes  would  wait  his 
coming,  and  then,  just  in  the  nick  of  time, 
shake  their  heads  and  dart  by. 

More  effective  aid  was  rendered  when  an 
emigrant  wagon  appeared.  Its  inmates, 
scattering  over  the  plain,  proved  too  much 
for  brindles,  and  they  were  captured,  and 
the  wooden  pins  that,  with  a  borrowed  axe, 
I  had  made  meantime,  were  driven  into  the 
bows  with  an  emphasis,  that  said,  "  Stay 
there  !  " 

Twilight  overtook  me  crossing  a  succes- 
sion of  sharply-defined  ridges,  black  as  Ere- 
bus, for  the  prairie  fires  had  just  swept  over 
them.  Wagon  tracks  diverged  on  either 
hand,  and  when  darkness  fell,  —  and  it  was 
"  pitchy  dark,"  —  I  soon  lost  my  way,  and 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  57 

there  seemed  before  me  the  only  alternative 
of  passing  the  night  where  I  was.  The  tent- 
like clouds  lifted  slightly,  and  stopping  the 
team,*I  was  considering  what  to  do,  when  I 
saw  something  white  moving  along.  It 
proved  to  be  a  man  in  shirt  sleeves. 

"  Halloo !  "  I  shouted,  and  he  came 
nearer.  "  Can  you  tell  me  where  the  Nor- 
wegian lives  ? " 

"  An'  it's  about  a  mile  an'  a  quarter, 
kaping  the  ravine  to  the  second  right  hand 
road,  thin  kape  to  the  lift  apiece,  an'  ye'll 
come  to  it.  But  do  ye  know  the  way  at  all, 
at  all?" 

"  Never  was  here  before." 
"  Thin  ye  can  niver  find  it,  sure  !  " 
"  Not    unless    you    will    show    me    the 
way." 

"  Indade  an'  I  can't !  Fur  yer  see  I'm 
in  me  shirt  sleeves,  an'  I've  been  shakin' 


58  ON   THE    FROxNTIER. 

with  the  ager,  an'  the  night  air  '11  bring  it 
on  agin.  I  wouldn't  have  exposed  meself, 
but  me  cattle  have  strayed  off." 

"  Oh,  they  will  be  found,  no  doubt !  " 

"  But  the  neighbors  up  here  have  their 
turnips  out,  and  they  swear  they'll  shoot 
me  cattle  if  they  git  at  the  turnips,  an'  as 
there's  no  fence  they'll  be  sure  an'  do  it,  an' 
me  oxen  will  be  kilt  intirely  !  " 

"  But,  friend,  you  see  how  it  is.  I'm  lost, 
and  you  can  help  me.  My  cattle  are  swift ; 
it  won't  take  long  to  drive  to  the  Norwe- 
gian's, so  don't  leave  me  here !  " 

"An'  sure  it's  not  Pat  O'Connor  that'll 
do  the  likes  o'  that !  "  said  he,  touched  by 
the  urgency  of  my  appeal.  And  springing 
to  the  seat,  and  applying  the  whip,  the 
heavy  team  rumbled  along  over  the  rough- 
nesses, now  leaning  to  one  side,  now  to  the 
other,  then   ascending    a    rise    of   ground, 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  59 

then  diving  down  the  other  side.  Soon  it 
stopped,  and  the  driver  jumped  out,  saying, 
cheerily,  — 

"  Here's  the  place !  Jist  mind  the  cattle, 
an'  I'll  stip  over  and  inquire  the  way  for 
yer  —  it's  bad  gittin'  to  the  house  for  stran- 
gers." 

After  a  few  moments  he  returned,  saying, 
angrily,  "Bad  luck  to  'em!  The  cabin  is 
full  of  Norwegians,  for  they've  had  a  raisin', 
an'  they're  all  drunk  as  bastes,  an'  fightin' 
like  Injuns,  an'  niver  a  word  can  I  git  out  o' 
them.  Sure,  an'  I  don't  know  what  I  can 
do  fur  ye  now.  'Twouldn't  be  safe  for  the 
likes  o'  ye  to  go  with  me,  fur  thim  Irishmen 
are  bad  enough  for  any  thing,  an'  it  wouldn't 
do  fur  the  drunken  bastes  in  the  house  yon- 
der to  know  ye're  about.  But  good  luck  to 
ye,  I  must  go." 

Some  months  before,  I  had  come  across 


60  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

an  English  family,  living,  I  now  thought,  in 
that  vicinity,  and  I  asked,  "  Is  there  an 
Englishman  living  near  here  ?  " 

"  And  is  his  cabin  in  a  fine  grove  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  An'  has  he  grass  land  on  the  south, 
an'  jist  before  his  door  a  dozen  acres  of 
'  breakin' '  that's  not  finced  ?  " 

"That's  the  man." 

"  Faith,  an'  he  lives  only  a  mile  and  a 
half  from  here  !  " 

"  Can  you  drive  me  there  ?  " 

"  Sure,  an'  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  all  the 
goold  in  Californy  ;  for  it's  meself  that  isn't 
well,  an'  me  cattle  '11  be  murthered  before  I 
can  git  back  !  " 

"  But,"  said  I,  strongly,  "  you  must  do  it. 
I  can't  lie  out  on  the  prairie.  I  don't  think 
your  cattle  will  be  any  safer  for  leaving  me 
here." 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  61 

"  Are  you  a  minister  ?  "  he  asked.        ^ 

"  Yes." 

Instantly  he  was  aboard  again,  and  there 
was  something  of  reverence  in  his  tone,  as  he 
said,  "  I  wouldn't  go  with  ye  fur  money  ; 
but  —  but  —  I'll  not  lave  ye  now." 

It  was  past  ten  o'clock  when  the  grove- 
shaded  cabin  rose  to  view.  My  guide 
hurried  to  arouse  the  occupants  while  I 
"  minded  "  the  cattle. 

"  Hilloo  there  !  wake  up  !  "  he  shouted, 
as  he  thumped  at  the  door.  "  An'  ould  ac- 
quaintince  has  lost  his  way,  an'  wants  a 
shilter.  Wake  up,  I  say,  and  not  be  slapin' 
like  heathin,  when  a  frind  is  frazin'  in  the 
cowld ! " 

A  door  swung  cautiously  ajar ;  there  was 
a  hum  of  voices,  and  the  Irishman  returned, 
saying,  — 

"It's   all   right  with  ye,  an'  I'll   bid  ye 


62  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

good-bye  !  "  extending  Ins  hand.  Then,  as 
the  well-earned  guerdon  touched  the  palm, 
"  Sure  an'  ye  don't  think  I  came  for  pay  I  " 
and  warm-hearted  Erin  disappeared  as  mine 
host  came  up.  But  like  the  Dutchman,  who, 
after  a  scene  of  pathos  over  his  lost  "  poy  " 
restored,  found  that  it  was  not  his  "  poy," 
so  this  Englishman  was  not  my  Englishman. 
On  explaining  the  mistake,  however,  he 
said, — 

"  Never  mind,  I  shan't  fret  if  you 
don't." 

The  dwelling  proved  to  be  one  of  those 
wretched  loggeries  that,  happily,  form  an 
exception  to  the  social  habits  of  the  region. 
The  inmates  were  as  uncultured  as  tlieir 
shanty  was  rude.  The  one  room  contained 
five  beds,  one  without  a  stead,  while  a  dirty 
cooking-stove  stood  in  the  center.  The 
floor  was  "  trunclieon,"  roughly  hewed.     A 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  63 

hole  in  the  wall  served  for  windows.  Size 
should  set  off  grace  or  goodness.  The  huge 
wife  could  scarcely  lay  claim  to  an  excess 
of  the  latter.  Then  there  was  a  grown-up 
daughter,  whose  chief  accomplishment 
seemed  to  be  the  incessant  using  of  the  floor 
for  a  pocket  handkerchief.  Having  dressed 
themselves,  both  dame  and  daughter  sat 
down  to  ask  questions,  and  pare  potatoes 
for  the  next  meal. 

"  Can  you  give  me  some  water  ? "  I 
asked. 

A  rusty  dipper,  filled  with  a  dubious  im- 
itation of  that  beverage,  was  passed  with 
this  caution,  "  Look  out  for  the  wrigglers  ! 
I  always  blow  before  drinking  !  " 

Having  satisfied  the  appetite  for  news, 
the  husband  said,  — 

"  Well,  old  woman,  perhaps  the  stranger 
would  like  to  go  to  bed  !  "    At  which  mother 


64  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

and  daughter  began  to  disrobe,  so  I  stepped 
out  a  while.  On  reentering,  I  was  little 
relieved  to  find  they  had  retired,  for  their 
bed  faced  the  one  I  was  to  share  with  the 
man,  and  with  heads  propped  up  against 
the  wall,  thej  eyed  me  with  much  interest. 
This  was  not  at  all  molified,  when  the 
sire  observed,  — 

"  You  can  turn  in  as  soon  as  you 
please ;  '*  while,  from  politeness,  I  suppose, 
he  waited  for  me  to  retire  first,  keeping  the 
candle  burning  on  a  trunk  at  the  head  of 
the  bed.  Hoping  the  gazers  would  weary 
of  their  mood,  and  he  of  his,  that  I  might 
extinguish  the  candle,  I  went  out  again. 
But  when  I  returned,  landlord  was  still  up, 
and  the  feminines  not  a  bit  sleepy,  so,  "  do- 
ing as  the  Romans  do,"  by  an  ingenious 
gymnastic  feat,  I  was  quickly  hidden  be- 
neath the  coverlids,  while   my   new   friend 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  65 

laid  aside  his  garments  at  leisure,  got  slowly 
into  bed,  pulled  up  tlie  covering,  turned 
over,  and  blew  out  the  light ! 

A  silver  ray  streaming  through  the  aper- 
ture in  the  logs  opposite,  woke  me,  and 
rising,  I  saw  that  it  was  the  morning  star 
peeping  in  at  our  repose. 

"You  are  not  going  now!"  exclaimed 
mine  host,  rubbing  open  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  make  such  slow  progress  I  must 
be  off  in  season !  " 

"Won't  you  stop  and  eat  a  mouthful 
first?" 

"  No,  I  thank  you.  But  if  you  will  yoke 
the  cattle,  and  tell  me  about  the  road,  I 
shall  be  much  obliged." 

The  directions  were  not  over  clear,  and 

the   prairie   did   not  lack  in  wagon-tracks, 

and,  as  might  be  expected,  some  miles  were 

added  to  those  really  necessary  in  order  to 

5 


66  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

reach  the  settlement  at  which  I  was  to  tarry 
for  business  and  refreshment.  The  stay 
here  was  much  delayed.  A  debtor  pro- 
posed to  settle  his  long-standing  account 
by  letting  me  have  a  cow.  The  offer  might 
not  be  made  again. 

"  Is  she  near  by  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  0,  yes ;  just  down  by  the  fence  there. 
'Twill  take  but  a  moment  to  find  her." 

The  moment  was  full  two  hours  ere  she 
was  secured,  and  attached  to  the  team. 
Then  an  estimable  lady  teacher  wished  to 

ride  over  with  me  to  L ,  and  there  was 

further  waiting  for  "  big  box,  little  box, 
band-box,  and  bundle."  Mooly,  picture  of 
meekness  that  she  was,  when  we  were  a 
couple  of  miles  from  her  accustomed  pastur- 
age, slipped  her  rope,  and  rapidly  retraced 
her  steps.  Her  homesickness  met  with  no 
indulgence,  however,  for    she  was   chased 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  67 

down  and  led  captive  back,  which  she 
retaliated  by  causing  us  innumerable  vexa- 
tions, keeping  one  or  the  other  of  us  hu- 
mans watching  her,  lest  her  horns  became 
entangled  in  the  wheels,  or  to  urge  her 
on  when  she  held  back  at  the  risk  of 
her  neck,  when  the  locomotives  from  Nor- 
way had  an  attack  of  the  capers.  Despite 
every  exertion,  night  fell  while  yet  we  were 
some  miles  from  home,  bringing  with  it, 
what  is  rarely  seen  in  Minnesota,  a  dense 
fog,  obscuring  the  stars,  and  hiding  the  sur- 
face of  the  country  beneath  its  misty  vail. 
An  uninhabited  tract  of  burr-oaks  and  hazel- 
bushes  was  yet  to  be  passed.  The  dim  and 
tortuous  path  was  soon  lost,  and  we  were 
wildly  beating  about  to  strike  it  again. 
At  length  the  wheels  run  smoothly. 

"  It  is  the  road,"  said  I ;  '*  our  wander- 
ings will  soon  be  over  !  "     But  immediately 


68  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

thereafter  the  cattle  stopped,  and  refused 
to  proceed.  Passing  quickly  to  their  side, 
how  thankful  I  was  for  their  obstinacy. 
They  stood  on  the  steep  bank  of  tlie  Iowa, 
facing  the  water.  The  flowing  current  re- 
vealed our  course,  however,  and  ere  long 
we  reached  our  destination. 

My  arrival  was  greeted  with  a  merrier 
laugh  than  that  which  celebrated  my  de- 
parture. The  sight,  no  doubt,  was  mirth- 
provoking  as  our  procession  passed  before 
the  door.  Ragged  and  soiled,  with  a  mam- 
moth squash,  which  I  had  bought  of  my 
English  friend,  crowning  the  load,  the  cow 
tied  behind  the  team ;  the  lady  teacher, 
who,  unfortunately,  had  been  obliged  to 
walk  most  of  the  way,  to  attend  to  the 
manners  of  the  turbulent  cow,  bringing  up 
the  rear  ;  —  the  show,  it  appeared,  was  worth 
the  trouble  of  standing,  lamp  in  hand,  to 
witness  it. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  69 

As  for  the  lumber,  it  did  double  duty ; 
not  only  keeping  the  winds  at  bay,  but  in 
the  gloomiest  weather  suggesting  memories, 
which  had  a  most  enlivening  influence  on 
our  household. 


10  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 


LIGHT    FOR    THE    PRAIRIE. 

One  fine,  spring  morning,  snch  as  Min- 
nesotians  rejoice  in,  services  had  just  com- 
menced in  our  little  sanctuary,  when  two 
strangers  entered.  One  of  them  I  soon  rec- 
ognized as  Mr.  L.,  whose  son  Judson  had 
perished  from  cold  on  the  prairie.  Himself 
and  friend,  —  a  most  exemplary  Christian,  as 
I  afterward  found,  —  having  no  preaching 
in  their  settlement,  had  walked  eleven  miles 
to  attend  our  meeting.  As  they  were  re- 
turning at  night,  I  accompanied  them  a 
short  distance  for  religious  conversation. 

Their  presence  had  a  wider  significance 
than  I  had  supposed.  Mr.  L.  said  that  the 
funeral    services    of    his    hoy    Judson   had 


ON    THE   FRONTIER.  71 

awakened  a  general  wish  for  preaching ; 
and  hearing   that   I  was  not   engaged,  the 

settlers  at  L were  anxious  that  I  should 

locate  with  them. 

"  We  want  the  gospel,"  he  said,  with 
Western  frankness,  "  and  we  don't  mean  to 
steal  it  either ! "  Then  followed  consider- 
ations tending  to  show  that  the  speaker, 
and  those  he  represented,  were  in  earnest. 

Visits  to  L convinced  me  that  it  was 

a  promising  field  of  effort,  and  I  did  not 
feel  at  liberty  to  "  decline  the  call,"  though 
previously  I  had  scarcely  determined 
whether  to  remain  West  or  not.  Accepting 
the  generous  hospitality  of  Mr.  L.,  I  became 
an  inmate  of  his  household,  until  the  arrival 
of  my  family  from  the  east.  The  shadow 
of  their  great  sorrow  still  rested  on  them, 
stimulating  in  me  desire  for  their  spiritual 
good. 


72  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

One  member  of  the  family,  especially, 
excited  interest.  They  called  her  aunt 
Flora.  She  was  over  sixty,  stout  and  ro- 
bust ;  her  plain,  almost  repulsive  coun- 
tenance, wearing  ever  a  sullen,  imbittered 
expression.  A  more  hopeless,  forbidding 
face  one  rarely  sees.  She  had  also  this 
peculiarity.  She  uniformly  absented  her- 
self from  our  devotions,  and  if  in  the  room 
when  the  hour  of  prayer  arrived,  would 
immediately  leave  till  the  exercises  were 
over.  I  supposed,  for  a  time,  that  some 
labor  called  her  away,  and  wondered  that 
domestic  arrangements  were  not  such  as 
to  permit  her  to  remain. 

"  I  do  not  get  acquainted  with  aunt 
Flora,"  I  said  to  Mrs.  L.  one  day. 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  she  answered. 

"  Is  she  a  professor  of  religion  ?  " 

"  No,   indeed ;   she   hates    religion,"   was 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  73 

the  intense  reply.  "I  do  not  think  she 
has  read  a  word  in  the  Bible  or  attended 
church  since  she  was  a  child.  You  have 
noticed  she  is  never  present  at  family 
prayers  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  thought  perhaps  some  duty 
made  her  absence  necessary." 

"  Oh,  no,  she  will  not  stay.  No  one 
can  induce  her  to ;  it  has  been  often  tried, 
but  in  vain." 

"  What  a  pity  !  And  she  looks  so  un- 
happy. We  must  pj-ay  and  labor  for  her; 
perhaps  God  will  soften  her  heart,  and  lead 
her  to  peace." 

"You  would  not  speak  thus,"  was  the 
decided  rejoinder,  "  if  you  knew  aunt 
Flora's  history.  I  have  no  hope  that  she 
will  ever  be  a  different  woman.  She  has 
for  years  been  the  bitterest  enemy  to  the 
Bible  and  to  Christians  that  I  ever  saw." 


74  ON   THE   FEONTIER. 

"  But,"  I  interposed,  "  how  often  were 
the  vilest  outcasts  brought  in  under  the 
Saviour's  ministry !  —  the  lowest,  most  aban- 
doned, as  well  as  the  fiercest  opposers. 
How  the  grace  of  Christ  was  magnified 
when  he  saved  Zaccheus  and  Mary  Mag- 
dalene ;  and  met  Saul  of  Tarsus,  and  made 
him  a  '  chosen  vessel.'  '* 

"  Well,  you  can  try,"  she  replied ;  "  but 
you  will  be  disappointed.  If  you  knew 
aunt  Flora  as  I  do,  you  would  not  at- 
tempt it." 

Alas  !  how  often  the  nearest  relatives  are 
least  hopeful  concerning  the  starving  prodi- 
gal !  How  prone  we  are,  from  very  abhor- 
rence of  sin,  to  walk  in  the  steps  of  Simon 
the  Pharisee  ! 

My  sympathy  for  the  unhappy  woman 
deepened  as  discouragements  were  pre- 
sented, and  no  public  duties  were  able  to 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  75 

take  my  thoughts  long  from  her.  The 
labor  I  was  engaged  in  was  absorbing  and 
rich  in  encouragement.  It  was  so  novel 
in  many  respects,  so  different  from  the 
stereotype  customs  of  the  East,  that  I  could 
not  but  be  interested ;  —  a  young  town 
rising  in  the  verge  of  civilization  ;  prairies 
being  farmed  and  fenced  ;  immigration,  with 
its  ceaseless  tramp,  tramp ;  its  unbroken 
line  of  white-topped  wagons,  bringing  in 
additions  from  almost  every  quarter  of  the 
world,  all  eager  for  the  treasure  that  per- 
isheth.  And  this  great  flock,  scattered 
abroad  as  sheep  witliout  a  shepherd,  must 
hear  and  accept  the  "  great  salvation,"  or 
be  lost  forever.  The  reflection  was  full 
of  incentive. 

Our  congregation  offered  a  singular  scene. 
In  garb,  what  variety !  From  the  well- 
dressed   merchant,  just  from   the    East,  to 


76  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

the  shoemaker  in  blue  overalls  and  shirt 
sleeves.  From  the  dashing  belle,  late  from 
the  .metropolis,  to  the  unadorned  wife  of 
the  backwoodsman.  In  opinion,  too,  how 
diverse,  —  Baptists,  Methodists,  Congrega- 
tionalists,  Presbyterians,  Dutch  Reformed, 
Episcopalians,  Adventists,  Christians,  Lu- 
therans, Campbellites,  Universalists,  Spirit- 
ualists, Mormons,  —  many  of  them  sturdy 
thinkers,  with  mind  and  body  invigorated 
by  hardships  overcome,  and  a  climate  itself 
a  tonic.  Gray-haired  sires  were  there,  and 
infants  in  their  mothers'  arms.  In  those 
assemblages  there  was  nothing  sickly  or 
effeminate ;  no  one  could  look  on  those 
strongly-marked,  thoughtful  faces,  without 
emotions  of  respect. 

But  the  work  went  pleasingly  forward, 
and  again  and  again  the  congregation  re- 
moved to  more  commodious  quarters.     And 


ON    THE   FRONTIER.  77 

from  grove,  ravine,  and  prairie  the  settlers 
poured  forth,  thronging  in  our  place  of 
worship  on  the  Sabbath.  Then  the  Sunday 
school  was  organized,  with  officers  and 
teachers  from  various  States,  and  its  large 
Bible  classes  ;  and  though  various  errorists 
and  sectarians  were  there,  the  Bible  and 
Christian  influence  were  elements  sufficient- 
ly controlling.  Often  I  felt  awestruck  at 
the  power  of  the  Word  of  truth  in  abashing 
error,  when  brought  face  to  face  with  it. 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  our  first  session 
after  organizing.  We  had  then  no  hymn 
books,  and  were  mutually  strangers. 

"  I  wish  we  might  be  able  to  sing  at 
the  opening  of  this  school,"  said  I,  "  but, 
it  has  been  suggested,  that,  as  we  have  no 
books,  and  have  come  from  places  so  re- 
mote, we  may  not  be  able  to  unite  in  this 
exercise  of  praise  to-day.     I  wisli,  however, 


•  78  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

to  make  an  experiment.     In  New  England, 
all  are  familiar  with  the  hymn,  commencing, 

'  There  is  a  happy  land.' 

Now  I  want  all  who  know  this  to  join  me." 
Before  I  was  half  through  the  first  line, 
most  of  the  audience  were  singing  ;  many, 
I  doubt  not,  with  a  tearful  memory  of  other 
days.  The  effect  can  not  be  described.  Many 
a  hallowed  association  was  called  up  at  that 
moment,  to  thrill  the  hearts  of  wanderers 
from  earlier  influences. 

But  what  an  hour  was  that  when,  after 
many  struggles,  the  church  was  formed ! 
The  rain  and  the  "  bad  going "  did  not 
keep  the  faithful  few  away.  A  venerated 
servant  of  Christ,  living  a  "  mile  and  a 
half  off"  on  the  prairie,  seeking  relief  from 
the  painful  disease  that  had  interrupted 
a  useful  pastorate,  was  punctually  present, 
and,  grasping   my  hand,  said,  "  I  did   not 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  79 

know  how  I  should  get  here ;  and  when  I 
came  to  the  stream,  and  found  tliere  was 
no  way  to  cross,  I  did  not  know  for  a  mo- 
^  ment,  but  I  must  turn  back  ;  it  was  hard 
to  do  it,  however,  and  I  just  ivaded  through^ 
and  here  I  am  !  " 

Then  later  came  the  longed-for  blessing. 
The  rain  of  the  Spirit  descended,  and  in 
many  a  household  was  heard  the  inquiry, 
"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  and  the  rejoicing  of 
new-born  souls. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  L.  were  both  members  of 
our  little  church,  and  the  family  altar  was 
no  longer  neglected.  Aunt  Flora,  however, 
remained  outside  of  the  widening  circles  of 
salvation  ;  she  continued  to  absent  herself 
from  family  devotions.  But  at  length  there 
was  a  change,  imperceptible  at  first  to 
most.  Her  voice  was  losing  its  harshness, 
her   manner    becoming    more  genial,    and, 


80  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

though  taciturn  still,  various  little  offices 
of  kindness  attested  her  growing  interest. 
The  "  two  "  who,  by  agreement,  were  lay- 
ing her  case  day  and  night  before  the 
Hearer  of  prayer  took  courage. 

I  embraced  an  opportunity  to  say  to  Mrs. 
L.,  "  Do  yourself  and  husband  discharge 
your  duty  toward  aunt  Flora  ?  Do  you 
pray  for  and  labor  with  her  ?  If  I  mis- 
take not,  the  Holy  Spirit  is  leading  her  to 
thoughtfulness  —  to  God." 

"  You  do  not  know  aunt  Flora,"  she  re- 
plied, with  a  look  of  surprise.  "  She  will 
never  change ;  I  can  not  expect  it ! " 

Oh,  how  prone  God's  people  are  to  limit 
his  grace. 

On  Sabbath  days  Mr.  L.,  in  his  large- 
hearted  way,  loaded  his  long  wagon  with 
neighbors,  and,  in  his  zeal  to  get  people 
to     meeting,    sometimes    sent    the    ox-cart 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  81 

too.  All  the  family,  save  aunt  Flora,  went. 
One  Sunday  niorning,  as  we  were  setting 
out,  she  stood  in  the  doorway,  holding  a 
babe  left  in  her  charge  for  the  day.  There 
was  a  tender,  pensive  expression  on  her 
face,  and  I  said :  "  Good  morning,  aunt 
Flora.  It  makes  us  feel  sad  to  leave  you 
behind.  God  can  bless  you  at  home,  how- 
ever." 

I  had  never  ventured  much  on  the 
subject  so  unpleasant  to  her,  but  the 
parting  remark  was  well  received.  I  de- 
tected symptoms  of  deep  emotion  as  she 
turned  away,  and  I  said  to  Mrs.  L.,  "  It 
would  not  surprise  me  to  learn  that  aunt 
Flora  reads  the  Bible  after  we  are  gone." 
Still  the  same  incredulity. 

About  sundown,  a  few  weeks  after  this, 
a  messenger  called  at  our  house  —  for  we 
were  then  housekeeping,  some  two  miles 
6 


82  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

from  Mr.  L.'b,  —  stating  that  aunt  Flora 
had  been  taken  suddenly  ill,  and  wished 
myself  and  wife  to  visit  her  immediately. 
We  were  speedily  by  her  bedside ;  but 
what  a  happy  place  was  that !  Suffering 
intense  physical  anguish,  her  face  was  radi- 
ant with  heavenly  light,  and,  with  shouts 
of  joy,  she  was  triumphing  in  the  love  of 
a  faithful  and  almighty  Saviour. 

"  0  Jesus !  Jesus !  how  lovely,  how  glo- 
rious 1  I  am  his,  and  he  is  mine ! "  she 
exclaimed. 

''How  is  this  ?  "  I  cried,  seizing  her  hand. 
"Do  you,  indeed,  love  the  Saviour?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied  ;  "  he  called  after 
me ;  he  sought  me,  and  found  me  ;  and  I 
will  praise  him  forever.'' 

''This  is,  indeed,  joyful  news  But  when 
did  this  change  take  place  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  Sabbath  morning  when  you 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  83 

all  left  me  to  go  to  meeting.  After  I  en- 
tered the  room,  something  seemed  to  tell 
me  that  I  was  soon  to  die,  and  that  I 
must  prepare  for  it.  I  did  not  know  what 
to  do,  but  took  up  the  Bible,  thinking  per- 
haps God  would  show  me  the  way.  While 
reading  the  chapter  to  which  I  opened,  it 
seemed  as  if  a  great  light  shone  on  the 
words,  and  I  saw  how  kind  and  loving  Jesus 
was ;  how  he  loved  sinners  like  me,  and 
how  he  would  receive  me  if  I  would  only 
come.  I  came  to  him  ;  and,  glory  to  his 
name!  he  did  receive  me,  and  I  am  so 
happy  !     Help  me  praise  him,  all  of  you ! " 

"  What  chapter  was  it,  aunt  Flora,  that 
was  so  blessed  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  replied.  "  It  was 
in  the  New  Testament.  It  was  about  the 
woman  that  broke  the  alabaster  box  of  pre- 
cious ointment  on  the  Saviour's  feet,  and 


8-i  ON    THE    FlIONTIEK. 

wiped  them  with  the  hair  of  her  head. 
And  after  I  am  gone,"  she  added,  "  I  want 
you  to  preach  my  funeral  sermon  from 
that  chapter.  I  do  not  know  where  it  is, 
I  have  read  the  Bible  so  little  ;  but  you 
can  find  it." 

-'  We  hope  that  you  will  get  well,  and 
live  to  do  much  good  yet." 

"No,  no;  my  time  has  come,  I  am  sure 
of  it;  and  I  am  going  home.  I'm  going 
to  Jesus." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  L.  stood  by  in  joyful  sur- 
prise at  her  change.  In  earnest  words  she 
exhorted  them  to  faithfulness  and  dihgence ; 
then  calling  in  members  of  the  household 
still  unrenewed,  warned  and  entreated  them 
to  seek  the  Saviour  ;  their  tearful  promises 
witnessing  to  the  power  of  her  appeals. 

One  thing  perplexed  me.  During  the 
fortnight    that    intervened    till    she    "  fell 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  85 

asleep,"  she  would  quote  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture from  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  with 
surprising  accuracy,  copiousness,  and  per- 
tinency, expressing  herself  almost  wholly  in 
the  language  of  inspiration. 

I  said  to  her,  "  How  is  it  that  you  can 
thus  quote  from  the  Bible,  when,  for  many 
years,  you  have  not  read  or  heard  it  read  ?  " 
The  answer  should  thrill  the  heart  of 
every  Christian  parent  and  Sabbath  school 
teacher. 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  with  a  happy  smile, 
"  those  are  passages  that  I  heard  my  father 
read  at  family  prayers  when  I  was  a  little 
child !  " 

"  Let  those  who  sow  in  sadness  wait 
Till  the  fair  harvest  come ; 
They  shall  confess  their  sheaves  are  great, 
And  shout  the  blessings  home." 

"  How  I  love  you  ! "  she  exclaimed,  on 


86  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

one  occasion  ;  "  you  are  my  spiritual  fallier; 
and  you  (turning  to  my  wife)  are  my  spirit- 
iial  mother !  But,  oh  I  how  much  more  I 
loTC  Jesus.  Now  I  long  to  be  with  him." 
And  thus  aunt  Flora  passed  away,  — 
smiling,  shouting,  triumphing,  —  a  "  more 
than  conqueror !  " 

At  sunset,  one  day,  I  had  strolled  down 
to  the  quiet  nook,  by  the  shaded  lakelet 
selected  as  Mr.  L.'s  family  burial  ground. 
It  was  on  his  land,  and  in  sight  from  the 
windows,  as  if  they  could  not  trust  their 
treasures  further  off.  Judson,  an  infant 
son,  and  aunt  Flora,  lay  tliere  side  by 
side,  under  those  three  grassy  mounds. 

I  thought  of  that  first,  sad  visit  to  the 
stricken  family  ;  of  the  singular  way  it  was 
brought  about,  through  the  suggestions  of 
my  infidel  friend ;  of  the  death  on  the 
prairie,  and  how  this  event,  to  which  the 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  87 

mother  was  so  long  unreconciled,  led  to 
my  removal  to  L. ;  of  the  subsequent  labor 
and  blessing. 

Returning  to  the  house,  conversation 
turned  to  that  very  theme.  I  reminded 
them  of  the  remark  at  the  funeral,  that  if 
they  would  cease  looking  at  secondary 
causes,  they  would  find  that  the  Lord  had 
gracious  designs  in  his  dealings  with  them. 
"  Now,"  said  I,  ''  see  what  has  resulted ! 
you  have  the  gospel  here,  a  Sabbath  school, 
a  Christian  church,  a  revival,  and  in  your 
own  circle,  "  the  blessing  that  maketh 
rich ;  "  you  are  both  in  the  church ;  the 
family  altar,  over  the  desolation  of  which 
your  son  mourned,  is  restored,  and  aunt 
Flora  is  in  heaven.     Is  it  not  true  that 

<  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 
His  wonders  to  perform '  ? " 

"Yes,"   replied  Mr.    L.,    "it  was  hard 


88  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

losing  our  boy.  But  it  has  brought  great 
blessings  to  us.  God  has  done  right," 
adding,  in    a  husky  voice,  — 

'♦Behind  a  frowning  providence 
He  hides  a  smiling  face." 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  89 


A    RIDE    TO    A    WESTERN 
WEDDING. 

Among  the  checkered  scenes  of  missionary 
life  on  the  frontier,  there  are  not  many  more 
pleasant  than  a  genuine  Western  wedding. 
The  heartiness,  the  bold  dash,  the  generous 
hospitality  of  the  thing,  and  often  the  novel 
phases  of  social  life  which  it  reveals,  to- 
gether, of  course,  with  the  fee^  which  is 
rarely  small  in  proportion  to  the  ability  of 
the  parties,  make  the  event  quite  welcome 
to  the  toiling  preacher. 

One  day,  on  answering  a  modest  knock, 
there  stood  before  our  log-house  door  a  young 
man,  barefooted,  coatless,  with  coarse,  well- 
patched  pants  and  rimless  straw  hat,  his  face 


90  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

beaming  with  a  bashful  happiness,  which 
would  at  once  have  suggested  his  errand 
were  it  not  for  his  garb,  or  rather,  want  of 
garb. 

"  Are  you  the  minister  ?  "   he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied. 

Then  followed  a  pause. 

"  Is  there  any  thing,"  said  I,  breaking 
the  silence,  "  that  I  can  do  for  you  ? " 

"  Yes.  I  came  to  see  if  you  could  come 
down  to  Mr.  Dearborn's  next  Thursday,  and 
marry  a  couple." 

"  Where   does  Mr.  Dearborn  live  ?  " 

"  Seven  miles  below  here,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  They  want  you  at  two 
o'clock,  Thursday  afternoon." 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  be  there  at  that 
time,"  said  I ;  "  but  who  are  the  par- 
ties ?  " 

"Oh,"  he  replied,  with  a  look  which  was 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  91 

its  own  interpreter,  "  you  will  know  when 
you  get  there." 

After  getting  all  the  directions  needful 
for  finding  the  place,  I  was  about  closing 
the  interview,  but  my  caller  lingered  as  if 
he  had  more  to  say ;  and,  after  evident 
embarrassment,  asked  what  I  "  charged  for 
marrying  folks  ?  " 

"  I  generally  leave  that  to  the  pa^-ties,'' 
said  I. 

Then  ensued  another  pause,  broken,  at 
length,  by  his  saying,  in  a  depressed 
tone,  — 

"  I  have  no  money  now ;  perhaps  you 
wouldn't  come  down  and  marry  us,  and 
wait  for  your  pay  ?  " 

"  That  I  will,"  I  replied.  "  And,  Provi- 
dence permitting,  you  will  see  me  at  pre- 
cisely the  hour  named." 

The  cloud  lifted  from  the  sunburnt  face, 


92  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

and  smilingly  thanking  me,  he  hurried  away 
with  a  light  step. 

Seven  miles  in  prairie  land  is  a  short  dis- 
tance ;  but  not  being  in  a  mood  to  walk,  I 
engaged  a  horse  of  a  neighbor.  Meanwhile, 
for  the  two  intervening  days,  it  rained,  or 
rather  poured  incessantly,  moderating  to  a 
gentle  fall  on  Thursday.  On  calling  for  the 
horse,  however,  the  owner  was  reluctant  to 
let  him  go. 

"Elder,"  said  he  (he  was  a  Methodist), 
"  are  you  used  to  managing  horses  ?  " 

"  Somewhat  —  why  ?  " 

"  Because,"  he  added,  "  my  horse  is  a 
high-spirited  fellow,  and  has  a  bad  trick  of 
throwing  folks.  Few  can  ride  him  without 
getting  hurt.  The  fact  is,  I  didn't  sleep  a 
wink  last  night,  worrying  about  consenting 
to  let  you  have  him ;  and  I  don't  feel  right 
to  let  him  go  without  speaking  of  it." 


ON,  THE   FRONTIER.  93 

"  How  does  he  throw  his  riders  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  By  suddenly  jumping  to  one  side.  He's 
powerful  at  jumping  —  beats  all  the  horses 
I  ever  saw  in  that  line,"  said  he. 

"  I  can  look  out  for  him ! " 

"  He'll  outwit  you,  elder  ;  hope  you 
won't  try  it." 

But  it  was  too  late  to  go  in  search  of 
another,  and  pleading  urgent  business  and 
willingness  to  incur  all  risks,  the  formida- 
ble beast  was  led  out  —  a  powerful,  intelli- 
gent, fiery  animal,  black  as  a  raven. 

What  can  be  more  inspiriting  than  a 
horseback  jaunt  across  a  rolling  Northwest 
prairie.  So,  despite  the  cold  and  rain,  and 
now  and  then  a  prodigious  leap  by  Black 
Hawk,  the  ride  was  most  exhilarating.  It 
was  two  miles  to  the  bridge.  On  arriving 
there,  I  found  that  the  freshet  had  swept 


9-i  ON   THE    FUONTIEil. 

it  away.  Just  in  sight,  however,  in  the 
margin  of  a  fine  grove,  was  a  snug  little 
cabin,  and  riding  briskly  there,  the  bark- 
ing of  dogs  and  my  shouts  brought  the  pro- 
prietor to  the  door,  a  bevy  of  flaxen-haired 
urchins  at  his  heels,  with  eyes  brimful  of 
curiosity. 

"  Is  there  any  way  to  cross  the  river  ?  *' 
I  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  on  the  bridge,"  he  replied,  curtly. 

^'  The  bridge  is  gone." 

*'  Well,  then  there  isriH  any  way." 

"  But  is  there  no  place  on  the  stream 
shoal  enough  to  be  forded  ?  " 

The  settler  scratched  his  head  comically, 
scanned  me  and  my  beast  leisurely,  and 
said,  — 

"  Take  the  road  to  the  left,  and  you  will 
come  to  the  old  ford  ;  how  it  will  be  in 
this  flood,  can't  say.    You  can  try  it,  though, 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  95 

if   you    like  ;     nothing    like    trying,    they 
say." 

There  was  need  of  trying,  I  found,  on 
reaching  the  spot.  There  rolled  the  river, 
deep  and  wide,  with  steep  banks  on  either 
side.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Go  back  and 
wait  till  the  waters  subsided  ?  That  was 
not  Western.  The  genuine  pioneer  never 
thinks  of  giving  up  an  enterprise.  A  short 
experience  in  the  vicissitudes  of  frontier 
life  wakes  up  a  self-reliance  and  love  of 
adventure,  which  make  danger  and  difficulty 
to  be  courted  rather  than  shunned,  —  in- 
deed, they  are  every-day  occurrences,  adding 
piquancy  to  privation  and  hardship.  And, 
as  I  looked  down  into  the  water  of  the  river, 
there  rose  to  view  the  image  of  that  ragged, 
barefoot,  coatless,  moneyless  bridegroom ; 
and  memory  recalled  certain  facts  which  I 
had  learned  about  his  borrowing  articles  of 


96  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

apparel  for  himself  and  bride,  and  materials 
for  a  wedding  supper.  Now,  to  disappoint 
persons  in  their  condition  was  hardly  to  be 
thought  of.  So,  chirruping  to  my  good 
steed,  we  made  the  plunge — and  a  deep 
plunge  it  was,  for  the  animal  above  as  well 
as  the  animal  beneath  —  for  the  former  went 
nearly  to  his  neck.  However,  the  horse 
soon  rose  to  the  surface,  permitting  his  rider, 
by  a  happy  exercise  of  unwonted  agility,  to 
strike  the  saddle  a  la  Turk,  which  position 
I  prudently  kept  till  the  opposite  shore  was 
gained.  Clambering  up  the  steep  bank,  my 
borrowed  steed  went  at  a  break-neck  pace 
the  remaining  five  miles  to  our  destination. 
It  was  a  small,  framed  house,  perched  on  a 
swell  of  land  in  the  midst  of  a  wide  prairie, 
dotted  with  an  occasional  cabin.  The  dwell- 
ing was  covered  only  witli  rough  boards, 
between  which  the  ever-restless  winds  camt5 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  97 

and  went  at  will.  Alighting  at  the  gate,  a 
gray-haired  man  —  the  bride's  father,  who 
was  cutting  wood  in  the  little  front  yard  — 
laid  down  his  ax  and  came  forward  to  take 
my  horse.  '  He  had,  as  I  afterwards  learned, 
served  in  the  Mexican  war,  and  had  still  a 
soldierly  bearing.  Taking  the  bridle,  he 
said,  — 

"  You  are  the  minister,  1  suppose.  We 
had  given  you  up,  thinking  you  would  not 
come  in  such  a  storm  as  this.  But  how  did 
you  cross  the  river  ?  We  heard  the  bridge 
was  gone." 

"  Horseback,"  said  I. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  soldier,  his  eye 
kindling,  "  a  minister  that  can  do  that  can 
preach,  I  know  I  " 

I  had  fulfilled  my  engagement  partly 
from  sympathy  and  the  pleasure  of  con- 
quering obstacles ;  there  was,  beside,  a  sort 


98  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

of  presentiment  that  urged  me  on  ;  nor  did 
I  in  the  end  regret  that  I  yielded  to  it. 

The  interior  of  the  humble  dwelling,  and 
its  occupants,  I  shall  not  soon  forget.  What 
taste  and  neatness  under  the  most  dis- 
couraging circumstances !  What  method 
and  fertility  of  arrangement  where  all  was 
plain,  and  rough,  and  scant!  It  is  on  the 
frontier,  where  the  appliances  of  elegant 
housewifery  are  impossible,  that  woman's 
fertile  resources  of  tact  and  skill  most  strik- 
ingly appear  —  often  making  the  rude  log- 
house  and  simple,  home-made  furniture 
wear  an  aspect  of  comfort  and  taste  not 
unfrequently  wanting  in  homes  of  luxury. 

The  household  consisted  of  the  father,  — 
already  introduced,  —  mother,  three  daugh- 
ters, and  the  young  man  who  had  called 
for  my  services. 

"  Mother  is  not  well,  and  would  like  to 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  99 

see  you  a  moment,"  remarked  one  of  the 
young  ladies,  showing  me  into  an  adjoining 
room,  where  loving  hands  had  spared  no 
pains  to  fortify  its  pining  inmate  against  ex- 
posure, and  soothe  the  anguish  of  suffering. 

A  bed,  with  its  snowy  counterpane  and 
tasteful  curtains,  stood  in  a  corner  of  the 
apartment.  On  it  reclined  the  dying 
mother,  the  emaciated  frame  and  hectic 
cheek  marking  her  a  victim  of  consumption. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  she,  ex- 
tending her  hand.  "  It  is  a  long  while  since 
a  minister  of  the  gospel  has  entered  our  door ; 
and  yet  I  regret  you  have  been  put  to  so 
much  trouble  and  exposure  in  coming. 
God  will  reward  you  !  But  I  wish  to  speak 
with  you  about  this  marriage." 

I  learned  from  herself  and  husband  that 
they  were  from  New  England,  and  in  this 
and  subsequent  conversations  gathered  quite 


100  ON    THE    FEONTIER. 

a  connected  account  of  their   peculiar   do- 
mestic and  religious  life. 

Mr.  Dearborn,  like  many  other  good  men, 
at  the  period  when,  by  prophetic  interpreta- 
tion, the  time  of  the  end  of  the  world  was 
proclaimed  to  be  ascertained  by  Mr.  Miller 
and  others,  became  a  convert  to  tliat  theory. 
Not  that  he  had  ever  examined  for  himself, 
or  was  competent  to  examine,  the  premises 
from  which  such  a  conclusion  was  drawn, 
for  he  knew  nothing  of  chronology,  history, 
sacred  or  profane,  nor  of  the  principles  of 
Bible  exegesis.  Indeed,  his  stock  of  informa- 
tion was  never  very  extensive,  but  the  lectures 
sounded  well,  the  mathematical  calculations 
seemed  to  be  figured  up  right,  and  the  fer- 
vor and  confidence  with  which  all  were 
challenged,  on  pain  of  the  most  fearful  con- 
sequences, to  accept  the  whole  as  truth,  com- 
pletely  captivated    his    feelings.      His   sin- 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  101 

V  cerity  and  conscientiousness  none  doubted. 
All  his  worldly  prospects  and  possessions 
were  sacrificed  on  the  altar  of  his  new  be- 
lief; the  little  church  with  which  he  had 
walked  in  fellowship,  he  left,  "  shaking  off 
the  dust  of  his  feet  against  it,"  because  the 
light  he  sought  to  shed  on  the  benighted 
minds  of  pastor  and  flock  was  not  received ; 
his  children  were  taken  from  school,  all  bu- 
siness matters  settled;  and  he  waited,  with- 
out a  doubt  to  cloud  his  mind,  for  the  ful- 
fillment of  his  expectations  at  the  time 
appointed. 

"  Forty-three  '*  glided  by,  however,  as  if 
no  such  man  as  William  Miller  had  calcu- 
lated the  symbols  of  Daniel  and  John.  But 
then  the  "  Jewish  forty  "-three,  it  was  an- 
nounced, would  justify  the  theory.  That 
passed.  The  "  tenth  day  of  the  seventh 
montk-'  was  soon  discovered  to  be  the  true 


102  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

time.  When  that,  too,  slipped  by,  the  poor 
man  was  in  a  chaos  of  prophetic  and  doc- 
trinal speculation.  Xot  that  he  thought 
any  more  highly  of  the  cooler  judgment  of 
the  brethren,  whom  he  had  denounced  for 
their  dullness  and  hardness  of  heart  for  not 
believing  in  the  period  set  by  his  fallible 
guides,  or  that  he  had  any  less  complacent 
idea  of  his  own  superior  piety  and  biblical 
wisdom — not  he.  But  then,  in  order  to 
adjust  the  theory  to  the  passing  of  the 
time,  new  opinions  were  constantly  started  ; 
gourds,  which  came  up  in  a  night  to  perish 
in  a  night,  and  all  the  old  doctrines  in  which 
his  faith  had  been  nurtured,  in  the  wild  ex- 
citements of  the  hour  were  being  overturned, 
till  he  had  little  in  common  with  his  pre- 
vious theological  faith.  However,  his  inge- 
nuity did  not  forsake  him,  and  he  settled 
down   upon   this   device,   that  Mr.    Miller's 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  103 

calculations  were  true  ;  the  end  had  come, 
but  in  a  different  way  ;  the  mistake  had 
been  in  the  manner  of  the  event,  and  not  in 
the  time ;  the  six  thousand  years,  supposed 
to  be  allotted  to  our  globe  in  its  present  state, 
had  passed,  and  the  great  Sabbath  of  rest 
had  come.  In  accordance  with  this  belief, 
he  now  strictly  rested  from  all  labor,  deem- 
ing it  wrong  to  do  any  thing  for  the  support 
of  his  family,  or  for  the  spiritual  good  of 
others,  albeit  he  still  had  to  eat,  and  his 
wife  do  the  cooking,  and  wherever  he  went 
he  was  ready  to  argue  for  the  truth's  sake. 
In  this  state  of  idle,  morbid,  talkative 
"  waiting,"  he  embraced  a  thousand  vaga- 
ries —  among  the  least  harmful  of  which 
was,  perhaps,  when  he  became  a  non-re- 
sistant. 

With  such  a  life,  his  little  farm  in  Ver- 
mont soon  melted  away,  and  without  money 


104  ON    THE    FKUNTIER. 

or  business  his  family  were  in  suffering  cir- 
cumstances. One  day,  while  in  this  plight, 
as  he  was  wandering  aimlessly  about,  he 
chanced  to  stop  before  a  recruiting  office. 
While  listening  to  the  shrill  notes  of  the 
fife  and  the  roll  of  the  drum,  he  "  had  an 
impression,"  to  use  his  own  language,  that 
it  was  his  duty  to  enlist.  Now,  impressions 
had  been,  during  the  recent  excitements,  like 
a  divine  law  to  him  ;  for,  supposing  himself 
to  be  of  a  class  specially  favored  of  God 
with  knowledge  of  the  scriptures,  and  of  the 
indwelling  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  was  his 
custom,  he  did  not  stop  to  confer  with  flesh 
and  blood,  but  put  his  name  down  on  the 
roll.  Quickly,  however,  he  awoke  to  the 
incongruity  of  the  step,  —  he,  a  peace  man, 
a  Second  Adventist,  one  who  believed  that 
the  kingdoms  of  this  world  were  wholly  of 
Satan,  that  it  was   contamination   to   have 


ON    THE   FKONTIER.  105 

any  thing  to  do  with  humai>  government, 
and  sinful  even  for  a  member  of  the  "  Fifth 
Monarchy  "  to  cast  a  vote  under  the 
"Fourth,"  —  he,  a  soldier  by  his  own  volun- 
tary action,  and  that  too  in  a  war  against 
Mexico,  —  a  war  too  which  Mr.  Miller  was 
teaching  to  be  the  commencement  of  the 
great  battle  of  Arnlageddon !  But  there 
was  no  retreat;  and  the  first  his  anxious 
family  knew  of  his  whereabouts  he  was  on 
his  way  to  the  field  of  strife.  Without 
seeming  to  realize  his  inconsistency,  while 
yet  drawing  pay  as  a  soldier,  he  prayed  that 
God  would  keep  him  from  actual  blood- 
shedding,  and  believed  that  his  prayer 
would  be  answered.  His  expectations  were 
realized.  At  the  battle  of  Buena  Yista, 
when  his  regiment  was  ordered  to  charge, 
the  spirit  of  fight  overcame  all  other  con- 
siderations, and  he   rushed  with  the  rest. 


106  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

shouting  to  the  conflict.  But  suddenly, 
remembering  his  principles  and  prayers,  he 
paused,  astounded  at  his  own  conduct.  Just 
then  an  officer  rode  up  from  the  front, 
holding  in  his  hand  a  disabled  gun.  Seeing 
the  hesitating  private,  he  said,  — 

"  Here,  Dearborn,  take  this,"  handing 
him  the  injured  weapon,  ^'  and  let  me  have 
yours,  and  you  may  go  back  and  help  at 
the  camp." 

As  his  new  sphere  was  congenial,  he 
made  himself  eminently  useful  in  dealing 
out  their  rations  to  the  soldiers,  and  guard- 
ing them  from  surprise  by  the  enemy.  He 
had  a  quick  eye  and  active  temperament, 
and  was  constantly  on  the  alert.  The  tent 
from  which  the  food  was  dispensed  was  on 
a  slight  eminence,  surmounted  by  a  flag. 
Santa  Anna's  artillery,  drawn  by  oxen, 
would    move    round    the    hill,   getting,  the 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  107 

range,  but  just  as  the  firing  was  to  be  done, 
the  vigilant  Yankee  would  give  the  word 
to  the  men,  and  they  would  vanish  from 
harm's  way.  By  this  course  he  saved  many 
valuable  lives.  From  this  service  he  was 
transferred  to  the  hospital,  and  was  so 
tender  and  efficient  as  a  nurse,  that  he 
was  continued  in  this  vocation.  His  pay 
now  was  quite  respectable ;  and  when  dis- 
charged at  the  end  of  the  war,  he  went 
home  with  a  nice  little  sum,  conscious  too 
of  having  been  useful  in  the  arm'y.  His 
non-combative  sentiments  had  also  been  un- 
touched, for  he  had  not  fired  a  gun  at  his 
country's  foes  during  his  absence. 

He  returned  to  tarry  but  a  short  time 
among  the  scenes  of  the  past.  Although 
still  clinging  to  certain  features  of  his 
prophetic  dogmas,  he  was  disposed  so  to 
plan  for  the  future  as  to  seek  to  invest  his 


108  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

money  in  some  permanently  remunerative 
way.  For  this  purpose  he  turned  his 
thoughts  towards  the  "  great  West."  Be- 
sides, the  changes,  disappointments,  and 
poverty-pinchings  of  the  family,  had  seri- 
ously affected  the  health  of  the  wife.  Iso- 
lation from  cherished  religious  privileges, 
the  violent  sundering  of  dear  and  sacred 
ties  binding  her  to  the  people  of  God,  while 
this  was  only  in  keeping  with  the  husband's 
rougher,  more  controversial  nature,  her 
loving,  sensitive  spirit  was  well  nigh  crushed 
in  the  process.  Mr.  Dearborn  was  filled  with 
concern  when  he  folded  the  shadowy  form 
of  his  wife  to  his  heart.  He  deeply  loved 
her,  and,  hoping  that  new  scenes  and  a 
Western  climate  might  save  her  from  the 
destroyer,  he  emigrated  at  once,  making 
one  or  two  temporary  locations,  then  sell- 
ing out  and  going  further  into  the  un- 
settled woods. 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  109 

It  was  while  on  their  way  out  that  the 
young  man,  to  whom  their  daughter  was 
now  engaged,  made  their  acquaintance,  and 
joined  his  fortunes  with  theirs.  It  happened 
under  circumstances  of  great  trial  to  them, 
and  his  presence  and  aid  were  peculiarly 
acceptable,  indeed,  indispensable.  With 
untiring  zeal  he  devoted  himself  to  their 
comfort,  and  whether  on  the  long  journey 
in  the  emigrant  wagon,  or  in  the  toils  in- 
cident to  making  a  new  home,  he  was  like 
a  son  and  brother. 

What  the  father's  feelings  were  as  he  saw 
the  affection  that  was  springing  up  between 
those  two  young  hearts,  it  is  easy  to  imagine. 
And  when,  one  day,  as  they  were  putting 
up  rail  fence,  the  young  man,  after  a  deal 
of  hemming  and  throat-clearing,  asked  for 
the  willing  hand  of  the  girl,  the  father  for 
a    moment   was   dumb   with   astonishment, 


110  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

then  exclaimed,  "  What!  talk  of  marrying, 
when  I  have  often  shown  you  that  time  can 
last  at  most  only  a  few  weeks  or  months 
longer !  " 

"  I  don't  see  why  father  must  make  every 
body  go  by  his  notions,"  said  the  daughter 
that  evening,  weeping  the  while. 

"  Annie  I  "  replied  the  mother,  "  if  there 
ever  was  a  good  man  in  the  world,  your 
father  is  one." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,  mother,"  returned 
the  child,  "  but  I'd  like  to  know  what  there 
is  wrong  in  getting  married.  George  read 
to  me  this  very  day  where  the  apostle  says, 
'  Marriage  is  honorable  in  all.' " 

"  Yes,  but,  dear,  your  father  says  that 
that  was  not  meant  for  these  last  days." 

"  Then  why  didn't  Paul  say  so,  mother  ?  " 

"  Well,  dear,  I  don't  see  this  matter  just 
as  your  father  does.     But  let  us  be  patient, 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  Ill 

and  not  cross  him,  and  if  he  is  in  the 
wrong,  he  is  such  a  good  man  I  have  no 
doubt  he  will  be  set  right  by  and  by.'' 

It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  the 
prospect  looked  rather  gloomy  at  times  to 
the  lover  and  his  chosen.  But,  like  Jacob, 
he  would  serve  seven,  or  twice  seven,  if  he 
might  succeed  at  last.  To  this  end  labor, 
money,  every  thing  was  devoted,  till  at 
length  the  old  man  leaned  on  him,  and  could 
not  do  without  him.  Meanwhile,  Time  — 
that  silent  exploder  of  shallow  theories  — 
had  set  aside  many  favorite  ones  of  this 
warrior-adventist,  while  the  mother,  true 
to  the  intuitive  kindness  and  good  sense 
of  her  sex,  lost  no  opportunities  of  advan- 
cing, in  her  own  gentle,  admirable  way,  the 
claims  of  the  persevering  suitor,  till  finally 
consent  was  granted,  and  the  wedding-day 
set,  as  we  have  seen. 


112  ON    THE   FRONTIER. 

"  We  came  here,"  said  the  mother,  "  be- 
cause of  my  health,  hoping  that  the  climate 
might  do  for  me  what  medicine  could 
not.  I  now  see  it  was  too  late.  But  for 
my  husband  and  George's  sake,  who  have 
sacrificed  so  much  on  my  account,  I  hope 
this  last  settlement  may  prove  productive 
some  day.  They  have  secured  a  good 
tract  of  land,  that  must  be  valuable  by  and 
by ;  but  we  are  *  land-poor '  now  all  our 
money  is  gone.  Another  season,  however, 
we  hope  our  crops  will  bring  us  something 
more  than  the  necessaries  of  life.  George 
is  like  a  child  to  me  ;  and  what  is  more, 
he  is  a  Christian.  Annie  and  he  are  ten- 
derly attached,  and  despite  our  present 
poverty,  I  shall  rejoice  in  knowing  that  they 
are  united  before  I  am  called  away." 

But  the  few  friends  that  had  been  invited 
had  come  in ;  the  simple  words  that  make 


ON    THE   FRONTIER.  113 

two  inseparably  one,  were  uttered ;  and 
then,  as  the  table  was  being  laid,  bride  and 
bridegroom  poured  forth  their  joy  in  Chris- 
tian song.  Strangely  touching  was  it  here 
on  the  lone  prairie  to  listen  to  wedded  love 
thus  expressed.  Yery  happy  were  they, 
and  comely  too,  in  the  freshness  and  vigor 
of  their  youth.  And,  as  we  gathered  around 
the  well-spread  board,  the  sick  mother,  tak- 
ing once  more  her  place  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  her  face  beaming  the  peace  she  felt, 
there  was  a  glow  at  my  heart,  such  as  I 
never  experienced  before  as  guest  at  a  mar- 
riage feast. 

Their  happiness  was  peculiarly  artless 
and  childlike ;  and  the  hymns  they  sang, 
what  strange  interpreters  of  that  happiness ! 
There  was  only  one  hymn-book  in  the 
house,  and  that  belonged  to  the  father,  and 
was  devoted  to  the  idea  that  molded  his 
8 


114  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

thoughts.  But  what  cared  they,  if  the  senti- 
ment was  of  unearthly  things,  —  if  it  only 
helped  them  warble  their  bird-like  joyful- 
uess  ?  With  loving  looks,  and  smiling  faces, 
absorbed  in  thoughts  of  each  other,  they 
struck  up, — 

«*The  chariot !  the  chariot !  its  wheels  roll  in  fire, 
As  the  Lord  cometh  dovra  in  the  pomp  of  his  ire ; 
So,  self-moving  he  rides  on  his  pathway  of  cloud, 
And  the  heavens  with  the  burden  of  Godhead  are  bowed. 

"  The  judgment !  the  judgment !  the  thrones  are  all  set, 
Where  the  white  arrayed  throngs,  and  the  elders  are  met ; 
From  the  east,  from  the  west,  from  the  south,  from  the 

north, 
All  the  vast  generations  of  men  are  come  forth  !  " 

Then,  more  plaintively,  they  sang,  — 

*«  Son  of  God,  thy  people's  shield  ; 

Must  we  still  thine  absence  mourn  ? 
Let  thy  promise  be  fulfilled ; 
Thou  hast  said,  I  will  return. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  115 

"  As  a  woman  counts  the  days 
Till  her  absent  lord  she  see,  — 
Mourns  and  watches,  weeps  and  prays, 
So  thy  church  will  weep  for  thee  ! " 

As  the  father  led  my  horse  out  for 
me  to  mount,  he  said,  "  We  thank  you  for 
coming."  Then,  as  I  was  gathering  up  the 
reins,  "  I  suppose  you  have  never  noticed 
what  the  Bible  says  about  the  railroad  cars 
being  a  sign  of  the  times  ?  Our  ministers 
are  dreadfully  in  the  dark  about  the  day 
we  live  in !  " 

"Ah!  is  it  possible  that  the  cars  are  pre- 
dicted ;  what  prophecy  is  that  ?  " 

"In  Nahum,  second  chapter,  third  and 
fourth  verses,"  lie  answered,  taking  out 
his  well-thumbed  pocket  Bible,  and  proceed- 
ing to  expound,  with  much  inward  comfort, 
as  he  read,  — 

"  '  The  chariots,''  that's  the  cars,  *  shall  be 


116  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

with  flaming  torches^'  —  that  describes  them 
as  they  appear  at  night ;  '  the  chariots  shall 
rage  in  the  streets,' —  the  tracks  are  laid  right 
in  the  street ;  '  they  shall  jostle  one  against 
another  in  the  broad  xvays^  —  how  they  strike 
together  when  they  are  about  to  stop,  or 
to  start  again,  being  hitched  one  to  the 
other  ;  '  they  shall  seem  like  torches,^  —  in 
the  night ;  '  they  shall  run  like  the  light- 
ningSy — going  at  the  rate  of  twenty  or 
more  miles  an  hour  ;  '  he  shall  recount  his 
worthies,' —  that  means  the  conductor  taking 
the  tickets,  and  making  sure  that  all  have 
paid  their  fare  ;  '  they  shall  stumble  in  their 

walk^  —  none  who   have  rode  in  the   cars 

* 

have  failed  to  see  and  experience  how 
difficult  it  is  to  go  about  when  the  train 
is  in  motion.  And  this,"  he  added,  trium- 
phantly, "is  to  be  fulfilled,  —  when?  ^  la 
the  day  of  his  preparation,^ —  that  is,  when 
God  is  preparing  to  judge  the  world." 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  117 

"  But  are  you  sure,"  said  I,  "  that  the 
prophet  meant  to  paint  the  steam-cars  of 
our  day  ?  *' 

"Certainly;  does'nt  he  say " 

"  How,  then,  does  it  happen  that  he  an- 
nounces that  this  prophecy  relates  to  the 
city  of  Nineveh,  which  has  been  destroyed 
thousands  of  years  ?  as  in  the  first  verse, 
he  calls  it  '  The  burden  of  Nineveh.'  And 
how  is  it  that  these  '  chariots,'  or  cars,  as 
you  term  them,  he  describes  as  having 
wheels,  and  being  drawn  by  horses,  driven 
by  the  whip,  as  in  the  third  chapter,  second 
verse  ?  '  The  noise  of  a  whip,  and  the  noise 
of  the  rattling  of  wheels,  and  of  the  pran- 
cing horses,  and  of  the  jumping  chariots.'  " 

He  stood  in  silence  a  moment,  then  said, 
"  I  don't  know.  I  haven't  had  any  light 
on  that  yet." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  when  you  get  the  light, 


118  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

don't  hide  it  under  a  bushel,  but  be  sure 
and  let  the  clergy  have  the  benefit  of  it !  *' 
and  consenting,  at  his  request,  to  preach  at 
his  house  in  a  fortnight,  I  rode  on. 

"  Well,  elder,"  said  my  Methodist  friend, 
as  I  alighted  at  his  door  on  my  return, 
"  not  a  limb  broken,  eh  ?  But  you  had  to 
swim  the  river !  Guess  you  didn't  get 
much  of  a  fee  though,  did  you  ?  " 

"Never  better  paid  in  my  life,  —  what's 
my  bill  for  Black  Hawk  ?  " 

"  Well,  seeing  you  feel  so  n"c/i,  I  think 
I  shan't  charge  you  any  thing  this  time. 
All  is,  I'm  glad  you've  got  back  safe  and 
sound." 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  119 


THE  LITTLE    MOUND   IN  THE 
WEST. 

Afar  out  West,  a  thousand  miles, 

I  own  a  spot  of  ground, 
On  which,  last  year,  with  trembling  hands, 

I  raised  a  little  mound. 

A  robin,  with  her  fledgeling  brood, 

Was  singing  then  hard  by : 
That  robin,  with  her  fledgeling  brood, 

Was  happier  far  than  I. 

The  leaves  have  fallen  on  that  mound, 

The  snows  have  bound  it  fast. 
And,  howling  through  the  trees  o'erhead, 

Have  gusts  of  winter  passed. 

But  now  the  Winter's  icy  bands 

Are  severed  by  the  Spring, 
And  round  that  lonely  mound  again 

The  robins  come  to  sing. 


120  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

How  has  the  little  tenant  passed 
The  autumn  there  alone  ?  — 
The  long,  cold,  dismal  winter  nights 
That  since  have  come  and  gone. 

He  could  not  bear  to  leave  me  once, 

Not  even  for  a  day ; 
He  grieved  and  piaed  in  loneliness 

"WTiene'er  I  was  away. 

But  now  he  lies  untended  there, 
Nor  murmurs  from  his  bed ; 

And  down  in  mold  and  darkness  keeps 
The  watches  of  the  dead. 

We  draped  him  for  his  final  rest, 
'Mid  sobs,  and  tears,  and  sighs  ; 

We  combed  his  hair,  and  tenderly 
We  closed  his  precious  eyes. 

Do  rose  and  violet  keep  their  place 
Through  all  these  wasting  hours  ? 

And  does  his  little  moldering  hand 
Still  clasp  its  withered  flowers  ? 

With  such  endearing  cares  we  sought 

The  cruel  grave  to  cheat 
Of  half  its  horrors  ;  even  his  toys 

Were  bmied  at  his  feet. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  121 

How  vain  the  thought  to  placate  Death 

"With  cheerful  funeral  rite  ! 
I  have  a  funeral  in  my  heart ; 

I  bury  him  each  night. 

The  grief  each  idle  passer-by 

Prejudged  would  soon  depart, 
Is  gnawing  deep  and  deeper  still 

Into  my  withered  heart. 

And  in  my  agony,  I  turn 

To  that  far  spot  of  ground, 
Where  all  my  earthly  hopes  lie  dead. 

Within  the  little  mound. 


122  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 


A  WALK  WITH   A   STRANGER. 

A  WESTERN    REMINISCENCE. 

I  WAS  waiting  at  Landing,  on  the 

Mississippi,  for  friends  from  the  East.  The 
spring  floods  were  subsiding.  The  low, 
level  land  on  the  other  side,  with  its  rich 
vegetation  exposed  to  the  hot  sun,  sent  up 
sickly  vapors,  and  each  day  brought  some 
new  cases  of  ague  and  fever.  Lofty  bluffs, 
between  which  the  town  extended,  shut 
away  every  breath  of  air.  At  times  the 
heat  seemed  like  a  furnace.  Nevertheless, 
the  chills  often  drove  me  out  to  the  sunny 
side  of  the  hotel,  where  I  would  stand  shiv- 
ering in  my  overcoat. 

One  morning  I  stood  warming  myself  as 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  123 

usual.  The  street  had  few  signs  of  life, 
save  that  scores  of  hogs  ran  about  grunting 
their  love  of  liberty,  intent  on  plunder, 
which  consisted  mainly  in  running  their 
sharp  noses  into  bags  of  flour  that  stood 
in  tempting  array  at  the  doors  of  the  stores. 
The  traders  kept  a  long  whip  ready  for  the 
porkers,  but  "  practice  makes  perfect,"  and 
the  hogs  would  often  outwit  them. 

An  instance  amused  me.  A  shopkeeper, 
seeing  the  hogs  coming,  waited  till  they 
were  within  reach,  then,  springing  out,  he 
applied  the  lash,  and  they  ran  squealing 
away.  He  saw  them  approach  his  neigh- 
bor's flour.  Assured  that  his  own  in  the 
mean  while  was  safe,  he  returned  to  his 
counter.  Scarcely  was  he  there,  however, 
when  a  long-legged  boar  rushed  back  with 
the  fleetness  of  a  hound,  and,  by  a  dex- 
trous blow  of  his  tusk,  tore   a  bag  from 


124  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

bottom  to  top,  emptying  the  contents  on 
the  ground.  At  once  his  companions 
rushed  to  the  spot.  The  flour  quickly  disap- 
peared, and,  as  I  was  laughing  at  the  scene, 
a  deep  voice  at  my  side  said,  "  Wouldn't 
you  like  to  take  a  walk,  stranger  ? " 

The  speaker  was  a  tall,  powerfully  built 
man,  of  about  thirty.  His  sallow,  sunken 
cheeks  and  wasted  limbs,  marked  him  a 
recent  victim  of  fever.  Nature  had  given 
him  a  manly,  open  countenance  ;  but  over 
it  there  rested  a  reckless,  fierce  expression. 
His  abrupt  address  was  not  unpleasant  to 
me ;  it  was  in  keeping  with  Western  frank- 
ness ;  but  there  was  a  something,  illy  de- 
fined in  his  looks,  that  made  me  suspect  an 
evil  design. 

"  I  came  down  from  St.  Paul  in  the  boat 
this  morning,"  he  continued,  "  and  it's  dull 
enough  here.     Up  the  river  a  mile  or  so 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  125 

there  is  a  scythe-snath  factory  ;  I  want  to 
see  it  myself.  You  seem  to  be  alone.  What 
say  you  to  going,  too  ?  " 

It  was  a  wild,  lonely  path,  but  I  was  in 
the  mood  for  a  change  from  the  present 
monotony,  and  felt  also  a  desire,  after  a 
moment's  thought,  to  study  my  new  ac- 
quaintance, and  assented.  My  companion 
proved  to  be  a  person  of  varied  information. 
He  had  evidently  seen  much  of  the  world, 
and  I  became  interested  in  him ;  yet  could 
not  help  watching  him  suspiciously.  Why 
did  he  leave  the  bar-room  and  select  me 
as  the  companion  of  his  walk  ?  Why  did 
he  wish  to  walk  at  all,  —  he  so  feeble  and 
weary-looking  ?  And  then  there  was  an 
occasional  glare  of  the  eye,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  a  look  of  desperation.  This  mingling 
of  the  winning  and  the  repulsive  in  the  man 
kept    my   faculties   observingly   alert.      In- 


126  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

stinctively,  however,  I  assumed  a  careless 
demeanor.  He  was  not  artful  enough  to 
be  a  villain  by  profession,  and  that  was 
clear,  yet,  before  the  walk  was  half  com- 
pleted, I  could  not  divest  myself  of  a  sense 
of  personal   danger. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  after  inspecting  the 
manufactory,  ''  the  bluffs  shade  the  way, 
let's  keep  on  up  the  river  a  piece  ?  " 

He  was  disappointed  at  my  declining. 
On  our  return,  he  spoke  often  of  the  pleas- 
ures of  foot  journeys,  and  at  length  stated 
that   he   was   to   leave    next    morning    for 

D ,  a  town  some  twenty  miles  distant; 

said  he  intended  walking  there,  and  pressed 
me  to  join  him,  as  my  course  homeward 
lay  in  that  direction.     This,  also,  I  declined. 

That  evening,  as  I  was  going  out  to  a 
religious  meeting,  a  second  stranger  ac- 
costed me,  —  "  Are  you  a  clergyman,  sir  ?  " 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  127 

On  receiving  an  affirmative  answer,  he 
said,  "I  hope  you  will  pardon  the  liberty 
I  take.  I  am  Mr.  N.,  of  New  York.  I 
am  here  looking  up  land ;  have  made  some 
good  investments,  and  wish  to  look  around 
a  little  more.  I  have  some  money  with  me, 
and  am  really  afraid  of  being  robbed.  You 
are  the  only  guest  at  this  house  that  has  a 
room  to  himself.  Would  you  not,  as  a  great 
favor,  permit  me  to  share  your  room  with 
you  to-night  ?  Last  night  I  lodged  with 
eight  of  the  roughest  customers  I  ever  saw. 
I  slept  but  little ;  but  once  I  was  startled 
from  a  doze,  and  looking  up,  saw  a  big 
whiskered  fellow  fumbling  about  my  clothes. 
He  protested  it  was  by  mistake,  but  I 
don't  believe  it ;  and."  said  he,  his  voice 
sinking  to  a  whisper,  "  there's  the  very 
chap,  as  I  live  ! "  pointing  to  my  morning 
acquaintance,   who   was   just   entering   the 


128  ON    THE   FRONTIER. 

bar-room.  "  A  desperado,  no  doubt,"  he 
continued,  much  agitated. 

On  inquiring,  I  found  Mr.  X.  was  a  wealthy 
merchant  from  New  York  —  a  speculator  in 
land.  The  host  at  length  reluctantly  con- 
sented tliat  Mr.  N.  should  room  with  me. 

The  speculator,  on  entering  my  apart- 
ment, examined  the  lock  to  the  door  and 
added  another  fastening.  He  then  seemed 
to  breathe  freely.  His  joy  at  the  change 
was  almost  childish.  Depositing  his  valu- 
ables at  the  foot  of  my  bed,  as  if  he  thought 
somehow  they  would  1)6  safer  there,  he  soon 
fell  into  a  peaceful  sleep,  from  which  he 
awoke  in  the  morning  to  renew  his  protesta- 
tions of  gratitude  at  what  he  deemed  his 
escape  from  threatening  peril. 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  I  am  a  stranger  to 
you ;  how  is  it  that  you  felt  so  safe  with 
me?" 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  129 

He  replied,  "  I  heard  you  asking  for  a 
meeting.  I  inferred  that  you  were  a  re- 
ligious man.  From  your  appearance,  I 
judged  you  to  be  a  minister." 

"But  I  meet  many  who  sneer  at  Chris- 
tians and  Christian  ministers." 

"  Sir !  "  he  answered,  with  emphasis, 
"  it's  my  business  to  find  out  who  to 
TRUST,  Let  infidels  say  what  they  will,  tho 
stoutest  of  them,  if  they  had  been  in  my 
place,  would  gladly  have  found  refuge  with 
a  religious  man," 

Late  in  the  forenoon,  hearing  loud  voices 
in  the  bar-room,  1  glanced  in.  The  alterca- 
tion was  between  the  landlord  and  the  man 
with  whom  I  had  walked  the  morning 
previous. 

"  I  will  not  pay  so  much.  Give  me  back 
that  dollar.  It*s  every  cent  I've  got.  I 
was  sick  at  St.  Paul,  and  have  spent  every 
9 


130  ON  THE   FRONTIER. 

cent  I  had.  I  can't  get  work.  I'm  so 
weak  nobody  will  hire  me.  Give  me  back 
the  money,  I  say." 

"  I'll  show  you  what  I'll  give  you ! "  said 
the  landlord,  with  a  dreadful  oath,  "  if 
you  are  not  off  mighty  quick." 

"  But,"  said  the  other,  in  pleading  tones, 
"I'm  sick,  I'm  poor,  I'm  hungry  —  hungry 
as  a  dog !  Have  I  eaten  a  crumb  at  your 
table  ?  I've  slept  in  your  bed  only  one 
night,  —  last  night  I  lay  on  the  floor  here,  — 
that  you  know.  And  what  am  I  to  do  if 
you  take  the  last  penny  from  me  ?  " 

The  scene  moved  me  deeply.  It  con- 
firmed me  in  the  opinion  I  had  formed,  that 
the  stranger  was  in  some  extremity  of 
trouble,  and  was  not  yet  a  villain.  So  I 
stepped  into  the  bar-room.  On  seeing  me, 
the  landlord  threw  a  quarter  on  the  coun- 
ter, and  said, — 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  131 

"  There,  take  that,  then,  and  be  off !  " 
The  man  took  the  silver,  went  out,  and  sat 
down  on  the  tavern  steps.  An  hour  later, 
and  he  came  to  me,  and  said, — 

"  I    am    going    to   D now.      Won't 

you  go  with  me  ?  I  was  going  yesterday, 
but  have  waited  for  you." 

Avoiding  a  direct  reply,  I  started  with 
him,  and  when  the  confines  of  the  settle- 
ment were  reached,  while  yet  in  sight  of 
inhabitants,  I  turned,  saying, — 

"  I  must  leave  you  now." 

"  What !  "  he  exclaimed,  fiercely  ;  "  you 
going  back  ? " 

"  Certainly.      Why  should   I  go   all    the 

way  to  D afoot  ?    Besides,  I  fear  the 

fatigue  of  such  a  walk  would  be  a  poor 
preparation  for  preaching  next  Sabbath. 
His  whole  demeanor  changed." 

"  Are  you  a  preacher,  then  ? "  he  ejacu- 


132  ON    THE   FRONTIER. 

lated.  "  I  thought  you  were  a  speculator !  " 
and  sinking  down  by  the  roadside,  he  looked 
the  picture  of  wretchedness. 

"  Friend,"  said  I,  "  you  seem  to  be  in 
trouble  ;    can  I  help  you?  " 

"  Trouble  !  "  he  replied,  bitterly,  "  it's 
all  trouble.." 

"I  soon  drew  from  him  his  story. 

"  I  lived,"  said  he,  "  in  Western  New 
York,  and  only  two  years  ago  thought 
myself  perfectly  happy.  I  had  married  to 
my  mind.  My  wife  loved  me  enough  to 
connect  herself  with  me  against  her  parents' 
wishes  —  I  being  a  mechanic,  dependent  on 
my  own  labor.  They  never  were  cordial  to 
me,  but  kept  themselves  aloof,  as  if  of 
another  race.  But  she  was  always  gentle, 
affectionate,  and  true.  Ah,  sir,  she  was  in- 
deed too  good  for  me  —  too  good  for  earth. 

"  My  boyhood  and  youth  had  been  Indus- 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  133 

triously  employed,  and  I  had  used  such  means 
of  mental  improvement  as  were  within  my 
reach  ;  but  religion  had  always  seemed  a 
thing  of  gloom  suited  to  the  aged,  or  the 
last  moments  of  life,  but  having  no  special 
claim  on  my  attention.  Never  shall  I  forget 
the  first  evening  after  our  marriage.  Clara 
placed  the  Bible  on  the  table,  and  said,  — 

"  *  Will  you  not  read  a  chapter,  dearest, 
and  by  prayer,  seek  God's  blessing  on  our 
new  life  ?  '  I  knew  not  how  to  pray,  but 
she  did,  and  kneeling  down,  with  sobs  and 
tears,  she  besought  God,  oh,  how  fervently, 
to  be  with  us  in  our  journey  together,  and 
to  enable  us  to  live  as  he  had  commanded. 
She  never  faltered  in  her  Christian  course, 
never  turned  back,  and  was  always  happy. 
I  looked  upon  her  at  times  with  feelings 
akin  to  awe.  She  influenced  me  more  than 
any  other  being  did  before,  and  under  that 


134  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

influence  I  was  led  to  make  a  profession  of 
religion,  for  I  was  powerless  to  resist  her 
gentle  persuasions.  Still,  I  do  not  now 
think  I  ought  to  have  taken  that  step  ;  it 
was  under  the  compulsion  of  a  human  love 
amounting  almost  to  idolatry.  Often  I  con- 
trasted my  hardened  worldly  nature  with 
hers,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  could  not  be 
right  that  such  a  being  should  be  united  to 
one  so  unworthy  of  her. 

" '  Are  you  not  an  angel  in  disguise,  come 
to  save  me  from  myself  and  from  sin  ? '  I 
asked  one  day ;  and  I  was  sincere  in  the 
question,  extravagant  as  it  may  sound  to 
others.  And  when,  after  the  labors  of  the 
day,  as  I  approached  our  little  cottage  I 
saw  her  dressed  in  white,  flitting  among 
the  flowers  in  the  garden,  or  coming  to  meet 
me  with  a  beautiful  smile,  the  fancy  would 
possess    me    that    some    visitant    from    a 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  135 

brighter  world  had  taken  compassion  on 
my  weaknesses,  and  in  human  form  was 
seeking  to  lead  me  to  the  paths  of  peace 
and  blessedness. 

"  After  I  had  joined  the  church,  she 
always  encouraged  me  to  keep  up  house- 
hold worship.  Were  it  not  for  her  watch- 
fulness and  loving  tact,  however,  often 
would  the  service  have  been  omitted.  In- 
deed, sir,  it  was  her  faith  that  I  expressed, 
her  desires  that  were  breathed  from  my 
lips,  I  fear,  for  my  heart  was  often  cold  and 
unbelieving,  and  my  feet  constantly  inclined 
to  stray." 

"  Did  you  have  no  enjoyment,  no  peace 
of  mind,  no  real  resolution  to  serve  God 
in  all  this  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Sometimes  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  did. 
But  my  life  since  shows  that  I  was  deceived. 
I  loved  her  better  than  my  heavenly  Father, 


136  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

else  why  have  I  been  tempest-tossed,  at  the 
mercy  of  circumstances,  restless,  complain- 
ing, wicked.  Oh,  if  I  had  not  lost  her,  I 
never  should  have  fallen  so  low ! "  he  ex- 
claimed passionately. 

"  Then  your  wife  was  taken  from  you  ?  " 
"  Yes ;  in  a  little  more  than  a  year  she 
died,  and  an  infant  daughter  was  laid  with 
her  in  the  grave.  Oh,  the  agony  of  those 
few  last  days  of  her  life.  I  called  in  the 
best  physicians  of  the  region  ;  they  could 
neither  save  her,  nor  relieve  her  sufferings, 
while  my  heart  was  breaking  with  fear  of 
the  result,  and  anguish  at  her  sufiferings. 
But  she,  —  why,  sir,  not  a  murmur  escaped 
her  hps  ;  her  peace  grew  wondrously,  like 
the  dawning  of  heaven,  and  while  her  body 
was  racked  with  pain,  her  face  shone  like 
Stephen's  before  his  murderers.  Before 
her  departure  she  was  ever  praying  for  me 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  137 

or  praising  God,  for  her  soul  was  filled 
with  heaven.  Her  last  words  were,  as  she 
pointed  upward,  '  We  shall  meet  there, 
George.' 

''  When  she  died  it  was  just  before  daylight 
one  wild  tempestuous  night.  I  rushed  fran- 
tically forth  through  the  streets  of  the  vil- 
lage into  the  woods  beyond,  and  fell  help- 
lessly on  the  ground,  overcome  with  the  ter- 
rible emotions  of  rage,  and  grief,  and 
wretchedness.  I  felt  that  life  had  now  no 
charms  for  me,  and  that  God  was  a  hard 
being,  a  tyrant,  who  had  remorselessly  robbed 
me  of  all  I  loved.  Unable  to  apply  myself 
to  work,  what  little  I  had  got  together  for  her 
sake  was  soon  gone.  At  length  I  came  West, 
hoping  that  new  scenes  might  help  me  to 
forget  the  old.  The  change  was  favorable 
for  a  time.  I  found  work,  but  fell  sick. 
The  few  acquaintan»?.es  I  had  were    gone 


138  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

when  1  got  about.  I  was  in  debt  for  board, 
medical  attendance,  and  other  necessary  ex- 
penses, and  have  since  been  unsuccessfully 
wandering  around  seeking  employment." 

Briefly,  misfortune  had  brought  him  to 
despair,  and  well  nigh  unsettled  reason. 
Hard-hearted  treatment  had  filled  liim  with 
hatred  to  his  kind.  He  had  even  been 
tempted  to  self-destruction,  and  later  to 
commit  robbery.  His  brain,  as  he  expressed 
it,  was  "  all  in  a  whirl,  and  his  heart  hard 
as  stone." 

"  Ah,"  said  I,  "you  have  been  all  wrong 
in  your  feelings  —  you  have  neglected  one 
thing  most  needful  for  you  in  your  circum- 
stances." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "   he  asked. 

"  It  is  that  which  your  sainted  wife  found 
help  in,  — prayer.  I  also  have  seen  sorrow, 
and  have  found  it  an  unfailing  refuge." 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  139 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  vehemently,  "  that  I  could 
pray !  " 

Commending  to  him  the  case  of  the  pub- 
lican and  the  thief  on  the  cross,  I  added, 
"  One  anciently  said,  '  I  am  poor  and  needy, 
yet  the  Lord  thinketh  upon  me  !  '  If  you 
seek  him,  he  will  be  found  of  you,  he  will 
sustain  you.  And  he  will  hear  your  cries, 
and  open  before  you,  I  doubt  not,  a  door 
of  deliverance  as  it  regards  your  temporal 
necessities.  Will  you  not  thus  go  to  him 
and  trust  him  ?  " 

Then  advising  him  to  keep  away  from  the 
miasma  of  the  Mississippi  and  from  the  large 
towns,  and  seek  a  shelter  till  he  was  well 
among  the  kind-hearted  prairie  farmers,  and 
placing  in  his  hand  something  to  help  him 
on  his  way,  we  parted. 

"  That's  a  dangerous  operation,"  said  one, 


140  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

passing,  as  some  months  after  the  incidents 
just  narrated  I  chanced  at  a  village  fifty 
miles  inland,  and  stood  watclnng  a  gronp 
of  men  engaged  in  raising  a  "  liberty  pole." 
It  was  of  great  height,  and  no  little  enthu- 
siasm attended  its  erection,  for  the  place 
had  just  been  made  the  county  seat,  after  a 
spirited  contest  with  rival  aspirants  for  the 
honor.  Being  a  stranger  I  could  share 
little  in  the  general  joy,  but  was  more  con- 
cerned for  the  lives  of  those  who  pulled  at 
the  ropes  by  which  the  huge  piece  of  timber 
was  being  elevated,  than  for  the  future  ot 
the  town.  Awkwardly  enough,  it  seemed  to 
me,  was  the  raising  managed  by  the  gray 
haired  leader  of  the  enterprise,  and  as  the 
pole  swayed  now  this  way,  now  that,  I 
shuddered.  But  a  sudden  "  hurrah  "  told 
that  the  feat  was  accomplished,  and  I  was 
turning  away  relieved,  when  a  man  touched 
me,  and  said, — 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  141 

"Excuse  me,  sir,  but  I  believe  we  have 
met  before." 

It  was  my  stranger  acquaintance  of  the 
Landing.  I  had  observed  him,  as  among 
the  most  active  in  the  raising ;  but  in  his 
new  garb  and  new  bearing  did  not  recognize 
him.  I  had  no  time  to  reply  to  his  greet- 
ing, ere  he  grasped  my  hand  and  said, 
tearfully,  — 

"  I  took  your  advice  and  have  been  pros- 
pered —  been  blessed ; "  and,  pointing  to  a 
building  just  in  sight,  "  there's  my  shop 
—  I  am  a  saved  man  !  " 

And,  as  we  parted  again,  he  said,  "  What 
a  gulf  I  hung  over  when  you  rescued  me ! 
All  the  demons  of  the  pit  were  dragging 
me  to  ruin !  Thank  God  I  was  kept  from 
crime  —  but  how  narrow  the  escape  !  and,'* 
he  added,  "  I  now  think  that  my  dear 
wife's  prayers  and  labors  for  me  have  been 


142  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

blessed.  I  have  a  hope,  for  God  did  not 
wholly  leave  me.  He  saved  me  from  the 
snare  of  the  fowler,  and  set  my  feet  in  a 
large  place.  The  furnace  of  affliction  was 
seven  times  heated,  but  I  am  not  consumed, 
and  by  and  by  I  expect  to  meet  her  whom 
I  love,  and  be  with  her  forever,  in  the 
presence  of  the  dear  Saviour,  who  loved  us 
and  gave  himself  for  us." 

A  coincidence  connected  with  the  facts 
just  related  is  worthy  of  record.  Our  ride 
to  the  place  was  enlivened  by  a  discussion 
between  several  of  the  passengers  on  the 
subject  of  benevolence.  Some  took  the 
ground  that  it  was  the  duty  of  every  man 
to  look  out  for  number  one. 

*'  But,"  said  another,  "  we  are  consti- 
tuted mutually  dependent ;  our  Creator  has 
made  us  stewards  of  each  other's  happiness, 
and  when  we  assist  an  unfortunate  neighbor 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  143 

we  not  only  discharge  a  sacred  obligation, 
but  always  receive  in  return  a  generous 
equivalent."  , 

"  In  what  way  ? ''  inquired  his  opponent. 

''  Oh,  if  in  no  other,  in  the  satisfaction  that 
flows  from  the  performance  of  a  deed  of 
kindness." 

"  Not  quite  substantial  enough  for  my 
use,"  returned  the  other.  "  When  I  in- 
vest money,  I  want  money,  or  something 
equally  tangible,  in  return.  A  conscious- 
ness of  befriending  somebody  won't  put 
meat  into  the  kettle  nor  flour  into  the 
barrel." 

"  But  what,  after  all,"  it  was  further 
urged,  "  is  the  motive  of  our  money  seek- 
ing? Is  it  not  that  we  fancy  that  earthly 
possessions  will  make  us  happy  ?  Cer- 
tainly. But  the  experience  of  mankind 
shows  that  the  soul  can  not  be  satisfied  with 


144  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

perishable  things.  The  million naire  may  be 
more  wretched  than  the  honest  beggar  by 
the  wayside.  The  pleasure  of  doing .  good 
is,  however,  pure,  ennobling,  satisfying  ; 
a  source  of  perennial  enjoyment,  pur- 
chased at  a  cost  infinitely  below  its  real 
value.  Besides,  our  benefactions,  bestowed 
without  the  expectation  of  any  reward  save 
that  found  in  the  pleasant  thoughts  and 
emotions  which  result,  often  come  back  to 
repay  us  in  kind." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  first,  impatiently. 
"  I  prefer  to  invest  where  there  is  something 
positive  to  be  realized.  These  uncertainties 
may  do  for  those  of  a  less  practical  turn 
of  mind.  I  am  a  business  man,  and  as 
such  I  want  some  security  when  my  dollars 
are  invested." 

"  Very  well ;  the  apostle  says,  '  He  that 
giveth  to  the  poor,  lendeth  to  the  Lord,  and 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  145 

that  which  he  hath  given  shall  he  pay  to 
him  again." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  the  business  man, 
"  that  you  practise  as  you  preach." 

"  Sometimes." 

"  Yery  well.  When  the  funds  you  have 
disposed  of  in  this  way  pay  a  dividend,  let 
us  know  —  that  is  all  !  "  Our  journey 
just  then  terminating,  and  not  having  proof 
at  hand,  the  laugh  rang  against  me. 

On  our  return,  after  meeting  the  man 
of  the  Landing  reminiscence,  I  said, — 

"  Gentlemen,  you  may  remember  our 
conversation  on  the  subject  of  benevolence, 
and  that  I  was  requested  when  any  money 
devoted  to  charitable  purposes  pays  tangibly, 
to  report.  I  have  such  a  report  to  make  at 
this  time,"  — proceeding  to  repeat  the  story 
of  my  two  interviews  with  the  stranger, 
then  showed  the  bank-bill  that  my  grateful 
10 


146  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

beneficiary  forced   into   my   hand.      There 
was  not  a  dry  eye  present. 

"  Well,"  said  my  mercantile  friend, 
warmly,  "  you've  got  the  case,  and  I 
frankly  own  that  I  envy  you  your  hap- 
piness." 


ON  THE  FEONTIER.  147 


A   FRONTIER   TRAGEDY. 

"  Mr.  Peterson,  the  Norwegian,  wishes 
to  see  you,"  said  the  lady  with  whom  I  was 
boarding.  "  Something  dreadful  has  hap- 
pened, I  know,"  she  added,  earnestly,  "  he 
looks  so  pale." 

Going  to  the  door,  I  was  struck  with 
the  appearance  of  the  caller.  His  cheeks 
blanched  to  a  deathly  hue,  his  eyes  glancing 
apprehensively  about,  as  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  — 

"  You  know  Callahan,  the  one-armed 
Englishman,  living  near  me  ?  " 

"Yes." 

*'  He  has  disappeared  ;  has  been  mur- 
dered, I  fear." 


148  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

"  When  did  you  first  miss  him  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  Three  days  ago,"  he  replied.  "  He 
lived  alone  in  the  cabin  he  was  building  on 
his  claim  —  which  joins  mine.  Being  a  sin- 
gle man,  my  wife  had  done  his  baking,  for 
which  he  always  came  regularly.  She  had 
his  bread  ready  for  him  last  "Wednesday, 
but  he  didn't  come  for  it.  Supposing  some 
unusual  business  had  detained  him,  she 
gave  herself  no  uneasiness.  But  Thursday 
and  Friday  passed  without  bringing  him, 
so  she  mentioned  the  circumstance  to  me. 
To-day  I  went  over  to  see  what  the  matter 
might  be,  but  he  was  not  there.  Near  his 
shanty,  however,  was  a  great  deal  of  blood, 
and  his  hat  and  coat  lying  by." 

"  Did  you  make  inquiries  concerning  him 
of  the  neighbors?  " 

"  I  did  not  dare  to,  but  came  away  as 


ON  THE  FRONTIER.  149 

jquickly  as  possible.  I  knew  he  had  had 
trouble  with  old  Ringe.  Only  last  week, 
he  said  he  was  afraid  the  old  man  would 
put  him  out  of  the  way,  and  I  advised  him 
not  to  stay  alone  on  his  claim.  I  have  no 
doubt  his  fears  have  been  realized,  poor 
fellow!  I  scarcely  dared  leave  home  to 
tell  you  about  it,  for  if  old  Ringe,  or  any 
of  his  tribe,  suspected  my  errand,  they 
would  serve  me  in  the  same  manner. 
Hadn't  something  ought  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Yes.  We  must  call  the  neighbors  to- 
gether, and   search  for   the  missing  man.'* 

"  When  shall  we  do  so  ?  "  he  asked. 
It  is  now  nightfall,  and  to-morrow  will  be 
the  Sabbath.  Would  it  be  right  to  attend 
to  it  then  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Human  life  is  sacred.  And 
here,  on  the  frontier,  it  is  necessary  to  take 
prompt  measures  in  such  a  case,  or  no  per- 


150  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

son  will  be  safe.  We  do  not  yet  know  that 
the  Englishman  is  dead.  Perhaps  he  is 
lingering  in  agony  in  some  place  to  which, 
after  being  assaulted,  he  was  borne  for  con- 
cealment. At  any  rate,  this  is,  emphatically, 
'  a  work  of  necessity '  and  '  mercy,'  and 
steps  must  be  taken  at  once  to  ascertain 
the  facts,  and  if  your  suspicions  are  con- 
firmed, secure  the  person  or  persons  guilty 
of  the  deed." 

Messengers  were  accordingly  sent  in  dif- 
ferent directions,  inviting  the  settlers  to 
start  the  next  morning  at  nine  o'clock  for 
the  scene  of  the  tragedy,  seven  miles 
distant. 

Some  six  months  before  the  event  I  am 
relating,  an  aged  clergyman  who  had  immi- 
grated to  the  vicinity,  was  obliged  to  go 
from  home  to  buy  hay.  He  invited  me  to 
accompany  him.     Crossing  the  open  prairie, 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  151 

six  miles,  we  came  to  a  heavy  growth  of  tim- 
ber belting  a  sluggish  creek.  On  the  verge 
of  the  woods  stood  an  unfinished  cabin,  be- 
fore which  were  immense  stacks  of  hay. 
The  owner  was  a  man  of  small  stature,  with 
curly  black  hair.  As  he  mounted  a  stack,  the 
winds  that  careered  across  the  prairie  Mew 
off  his  hat,  revealing  a  good  brow  and  face. 
He  had  only  one  arm,  with  which  he  worked 
with  a  will,  cutting  ofif  the  hay  and  weigh- 
ing it.  His  crippled  condition  excited  our 
sympathy,  and  we  helped  him  at  his  task, 
for  which  he  thanked  us  with  a  manly  grat- 
itude. How  strange  to  see  him  in  the  van 
of  civilization,  striving  to  do  that  with  one 
hand  for  which  many  men  found  two  in- 
sufiicient.  Yet  he  had  made,  and  drawn, 
and  put  up  that  hay  for  sale  (certainly  no 
light  proof  of  his  energy  and  foresight), 
and  for  miles  around  his  more  able-bodied 


152  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

neighbors  were  coming  daily  to  him  to  pur- 
chase. Besides  this,  he  had  quite  a  pile  of 
rails  split,  ready  for  fencing.  Falling  into 
conversation  with  him,  I  learned  that  he 
was  of  Irish  parentage,  though  born  in 
England,  and  a  Roman  Catholic.  He  was 
candid  and   thoughtful,  and  on  my  friend 

mentioning  that  I  was  to  preach  at  R 

River,  next  Lord's  day,  he  promised  to 
attend.  He  kept  his  word,  showing  much 
sensibility  during  service.  At  subsequent 
interviews,  he  expressed  desire  for  religious 
instruction,  and  concern  for  himself  as  a 
sinner  against  God.  His  ingenuousness  and 
deep  feeling  led  me  to  hope  for  a  happy 
result  in  store  for  him,  and  his  lonely,  dis- 
abled state  —  surrounded  by  strangers  — 
heightened  my  desire  for  his  temporal  and 
spiritual  prosperity.  As  on  our  first  meet- 
ing, we  stood  talking  togethe)',  an  old  man, 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  153 

withered  yet  sinewy  and  lithe,  came  and 
leaned  against  the  rail  enclosure  that  fenced 
in  the  hay.  His  complexion  denoted  a 
mingling  of  races.  His  wrinkled  face  wore 
that  sinister  impress  that,  when  once  seen, 
is  not  forgotten  ;  hard,  savage,  insinuating, 
a  mingling  of  the  wild  beast  and  serpent. 
I  had  not  heard  of  him  before  ;  knew  noth- 
ing of  his  antecedents,  but  shrunk  from  him 
instinctively,  as,  fixing  his  leering  eye  on 
me,  he  said,  with  an  odious  smile,  that  dis- 
played in  his  almost  toothless  gums  an 
upper  and  a  lower  fang  on  each  side  of  a 
wolfish  mouth, — 

"  Perhaps  the  gentleman  is  land-hunting. 
I've  got  a  handsome  piece  of  property  up 
here,"  pointing  to  a  cabin  just  in  sight ; 
"  prairie  and  timber,  that  I  will  sell  dog 
cheap." 

Replying  that  I  did  not  wish  to  buy,  as 


154  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

our  team  started,  I  said  to  mj  companion, 
with  the  "  invincible  assurance  of  a  sudden 
presentiment,"  "  that  man  can  commit  mur- 
der. How  does  that  one-armed  man  dare 
to  live  by  him  ? "  Those  two  were  "  old 
Ringe  "  and  Callahan. 

The  following  Sabbath  saw  no  small  stir 
in  our  iisually  peaceful  community.  From 
various  quarters  men  poured  forth,  afoot 
and  in  teams,  many  heavily  armed,  for  old 
Ringe  was  the  patriarch  of  a  numerous  and 
motley  company,  in  which  French,  English, 
African,  and  Indian  blood  intermingled, 
producing,  with  their  besotted  habits,  a  de- 
graded and  desperate  band.  It  was  a  balmy 
May  morning.  The  air  was  fragrant  with 
the  scent  of  fresh  grasses  and  spring  blossoms, 
while  the  bluebird  and  the  robin  made 
joyous  music.  Could  it  be  that  amid  such 
sights  and  sounds  we  were  on  our  way  to  a 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  155 

Bcene  of  blood  ?    On  that  holy,  heaveu-blessed 
morning,  too  ? 

"  There's  the  cabin,"  said  a  voice  at  my 
side,  arousing  me  from  the  revery  into  which 
I  had  fallen.  The  same  dreamy  quiet  rested 
on  it,  as  on  the  entire  landscape.  Not  a 
person  was  to  be  seen  as  we  drew  near,  and 
the  birds  sang  as  blithely  from  the  covert 
of  the  woods,  as  out  among  the  flowering 
hedges  and  shrubs  of  the  green  spreading 
prairie,  away  from  "  habitations  of  cru- 
elty." On  the  side  of  the  dwelling  at  which 
we  stopped  there  was  nothing  to  denote 
violence,  but  passing  around  it,  a  sight 
met  the  eye  that  sent  a  shudder  through 
every  spectator.  In  the  hay  that  littered 
the  ground  was  a  deep  sanguinary  pool. 
Beneath  the  gory  mass,  the  blood  was  still 
limpid  ;  the  quantity  leaving  no  doubt  on 
our  minds  as  to  the  fatal  character  of  the 


156  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

deed.  A  hoe  leaned  against  the  building, 
a  pipe,  with  some  partially  burnt  matches, 
near  it ;  the  dead  man's  cap  and  vest  were 
not  far  off,  while  scattered  around  were  bits 
of  clotted  paper  that  had  been  written  over. 
These  last  I  carefully  gathered,  placing 
them  in  a  rifled  pocket-book  I  had  picked 
up.  From  the  blood  spot  to  the  fence  the 
grass  was  bent,  and  the  soil  disturbed  as 
if  the  body  had  been  dragged  that  way.  On 
the  rails  were  crimson  stains,  while  over 
them,  the  trail  could  be  traced  towards  the 
creek,  which  ran  between  us  and  a  tangled 
grove.  Old  Einge's  window,  forty  rods 
north,  overlooked  our  group,  but  not  an 
inmate  came  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the 
gathering.  It  was  proposed  that  I  should 
take  some  of  our  number  with  me,  and  make 
inquiries  there,  while  the  rest  hunted  after 
the  remains  of  Callahan.     Two  good  men 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  \        157 

volunteering,  we  started  on  our  mission. 
At  the  window,  as  we  drew  near,  was 
the  old  man's  son-in-law,  Shuber,  making 
ready  to  shave ;  at  his  elbow  a  mulatto 
woman  watching  us.  Two  barking  curs 
disputed  the  passage  as  we  approached  the 
open  door,  at  which  Ringe's  wife,  also  a 
mulatto,  stout  and  ill-favored,  her  heavy 
features  badly  pitted  by  the  smallpox,  came 
to  the  door,  and  called  out  with  a  hoarse, 
savage  voice,  "  Be  still,  I  tell  yer ! "  The 
dogs  slunk  away,  while  without  another 
word  the  woman  turned  her  back  on  us 
and  reentered.  Heavy  boxes  were  pulled 
roughly  across  the  floor  to  serve  instead 
of  chairs  for  us,  as  we  followed  her  in. 
One  object,  however,  fixed  our  attention. 
Opposite  the  entrance,  on  a  narrow  bed, 
his  legs  pendent  from  its  side,  his  back 
against   the   wall,   sat   the   suspected   mur- 


158  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

derer,  as  if  fast  asleep.  His  lower  jaw  had 
dropped  down,  his  hands  hung  listlessly ;  no 
attempt  at  life-expression  on  his  face  to 
conceal  its  deformity.  His  aspect  was  hag- 
gard and  revolting  in  the  extreme.  Pur- 
posely raising  my  voice  to  a  high  key,  I 
said  to  the  son-in-law,  — 

"  Callahan  is  missing ;  we  wish  to  know 
if  you  can  tell  us  where  he  is  ? " 

Continuing  to  strop  his  razor,  he  replied, 
jerking  out  his  words,  "  Don't  know  where 
he  is,  if  he  isn't  to  home  !  Lives  in  the 
shanty  down  there.  I  ain't  the  feller's 
gardeen.  Comes  and  goes  jest  when  he's 
a  mind  ter ;  perhaps  he's  gone  off  a  while. 
He'll  turn  up  safe  and  sound,  I  warrant  yer." 

"  When  did  you  see  him  last,  Mr. 
Shuber  ? " 

"  0,  as  to  tliat,  I  haven't  seen  nothing 
of  him  since  Wednesday  morning." 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  159 

"  But  haven't  you  thought  it  strange 
that  he  should  be  away  so  long  ? " 

"  Don't  give  ourselves,  up  here,  any 
trouble  about  the  little  Irishman,^^  the  last 
two  words  pronounced  with  a  hard  sneer. 
"  He  takes  care  of  himself,  and  we  take  care 
of  ourselves." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  loudly,  "  perhaps  your 
father  can  tell  us  something  about  him. 
Won't  you  ask  him?"  at  which  a  slight 
flush  tinged  the  cheeks  of  the  sleeper,  then 
quickly  disappeared,  while  the  son-in-law, 
continuing  to  ply  the  razor,  replied  curtly,  — 

"  He's  asleep." 

Questioning  other  members  of  the  house- 
hold, who  returned  confused  and  contra- 
dictory answers,  I  again  said  to  Shuber, 
"  Perhaps  Mr.  Ringe  can  give  us  some  in- 
formation about  Callahan." 

"  Father's    asleep,"    interposed    Shuber's 


160  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

wife,  "  and  we  don't  like  to  wake  him 
up." 

The  old  man's  wife  had  been  uneasily 
moving  about,  now  going  out  of  the  house, 
now  returning,  avoiding  conversation.  Turn- 
ing suddenly  to  her,  I  said,  authoritatively, 
"  We  wish  to  ask  your  husband  a  question. 
You  must  at  once  wake  him  up." 

Stepping  to  the  bed,  she  placed  her  hand 
lightly  on  his  knee,  and  ere  she  had  uttered 
a  word,  he  opened  his  eyes,  stretched  up 
his  arms  and  yawned,  saying,  confusedly, — 

"  What  —  what  —  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  These  gentlemen  have  called  to  ask 
about  Callahan,"  said  the  wife,  quickly. 
"  They  say  he's  gone  off,  or  something." 

"  What,  the  little  Irishman  —  as  I  call 
him  ?  Some  folks  call  him  an  Englishman, 
but  I  say  he's  an  Irishman,  0,  he's  all 
right.      He's   often   taking   a   notion  to  go 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  161 

nobody  knows  where,  and  to  come  back 
nobody  knows  when.  Can't  put  no  de- 
pendence on  him.  But  we  never  give  our- 
selves any  trouble  about  it ;  we're  used  to 
his  tricks.  Why,  I  don't  suppose  he  knows 
any  more  about  us,  or  we  about  him,  than 
if  he  lived  't6ther  side  of  the  ocean.  We 
don't  hold  to  meddling  with  other  folks* 
business.  He'll  turn  up  again,  I'll  warrant. 
Why,  you  couldnH  kill  the  little  feller  if 
you  should  try." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  away  this 
time  ? " 

"  Can't  say  as  to  that.  The  last  time  we 
saw  him  was  Tuesday  afternoon.  He  was 
hoeing  his  potatoes  there  —  right  over 
there,"  pointing  through  the  window  ; 
"and  I  said  to  the  folks,  guess  the  little 
Irishman  means  to  get  ahead  of  us.  Soon 
after  I  saw  him  go  toward  his  shanty,  to 
11 


162  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

rest,  1  suppose.  You  see  he's  got  only  one 
hand,  and  gets  tired  prettj  easy,  and  then 
goes  down  by  the  cabin,  and  stands  there 
and  takes  a  smoke  till  he  feels  better. 
"Well,  as  I  was  saying,  he  went  down  there, 
and  pretty  soon  I  heard  a  gun  go  off  down 
that  way,  and  Shuber  says  to  me,  '  What 
does  that  mean  ?  '  and  says  I,  '  0,  it's  noth- 
ing but  a  wagon  jouncing  over  a  root  or  a 
stone  in  the  road.'  After  that  he  was  gone 
from  the  shanty,  and  I  spoke  to  Shuber 
about  it." 

"  When  did  you  find  out  that  he  was 
gone  ? " 

*'  Thursday  morning.  You  see  Shuber 
and  I  were  at  hunting  deer  along  the  creek, 
and  we  had  to  go  right  close  to  his  house, 
for  the  creek  is  close  by,  you  know.  And 
says  I,  '  Wonder  if  the  little  Irishman's  up 
yet  ?    Let's  give  him  a  call,  and  see ! '     So 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  163 

I  called  out  'Callahan,  Callahan!^  but  ho 
didn't  answer.  And  we  both  hollered,  but 
all  was  still  as  death.  And,  says  I,  '  The 
little  feller  sleeps  sound  this  morning.'  " 

"  Did  you  go  back  that  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  'twas  on  'tother  side  of  the 
house.  And  we  called  to  him  again,  but 
he  didn't  say  a  word,  nor  show  his  head." 

"  When  you  went  after  deer,  the  path  led 
you  within  a  few  feet  of  his  dwelling  and 
the  fence.  Did  you  see  any  thing  unusual 
there  ?  any  blood  on  the  rails,  or  on  the 
ground,  or  any  article  of  clothing  ?  " 

"No;  it  was  so  dark  you  couldn't  see 
your  hand  before  your  face.  Saw  his  vest, 
though,  kicking  about,  that's  all ;  but  he's 
a  mighty  careless  feller  about  leaving  his 
things  round." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  you  are  a  neighbor  to 
him,  and  acquainted  with  these  woods ;  w© 


164  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

suspect  something  very  serious  has  befallen 
him,  and  we  want  you  and  Shuber  to  go 
and  help  find  out  about  it." 

They  consented ;  but  as  they  walked, 
grew  excited,  and  talked  fast ;  and  although 
no  charges  had  been  made  against  them, 
protested  that  they  didn't  murder  "  the  little 
Irishman,"  that  they  knew  nothing  about 
the  matter,  that  they  believed  he  would  turn 
up  alive  and  well ;  —  ending  by  stating  that 
he  was  killed ;  that  they  knew  who  the  mur- 
derer was  ;  that  it  was  a  young  German  liv- 
ing in  the  vicinity,  and  that  they  could 
prove  it. 

"  We  think  the  body  is  in  the  creek,"  said 
a  man  in  a  low  tone.  "  The  trail  ends  there 
—  we  could  follow  it  no  further." 

Stepping  to  where  some  willows  had  been 
felled  into  tlie  stream,  I  was  searching 
among  them,  when  I  caught  sight  of  a  pair 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  165 

of  boots  floating  among  the  branches.  They 
were  fastened  together  with  a  rope.  Taking 
hold  of  this  to  draw  them  out,  to  my  surprise 
I  found  that  they  were  on  the  remains  of  the 
Englishman.  He  was  naked  to  the  waist ; 
his  only  hand  was  lashed  to  his  feet ;  and  as 
I  deposited  him  on  the  bank,  the  blood  still 
stood  in  what  seemed  to  be  deep  gashes  in 
the  back.  I  had  just  stooped  down  to  ascer- 
tain the  character  of  the  wounds,  when,  to 
our  horror,  old  Hinge,  officiously  gathering 
a  handful  of  dry  leaves  and  grass,  with  a 
grim  smile  wiped  away  the  blood,  saying,  — 

"  That's  only  where  the  blood  has  settled 
like." 

He  knew.  The  marks  were  indentations 
caused  by  the  twigs  on  which  the  body  had 
rested.  Death  was  inflicted  by  a  heavy 
charge  of  slugs  shot  into  the  back  under  the 
right  shoulder. 


166  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

Old  Ringe  sat  over  the  ghastly  form  of 
Callahan  like  an  ogre,  gesticulating  with 
the  hand  that  held  the  clotted  leaves,  by- 
turns  asserting  his  innocence,  and  railing  at 
the  unconscious  dead. 

"  I've  nothing  against  the  little  Irishman. 
We  had  a  little  difference,  it  is  true,*  but  I 
jest  taught  him  his  manners,  and  he's  been 
good  enough  since  then.  We  haven't  had 
a  word  together  since  last  spring,  when  I 
slapped  him,  and  he's  been  as  quiet  as  a 
pig  ever  since." 

His  manner  and  language  were  horrible. 

While  waiting  for  the  coroner,  some  of 
us  went  to  a  spring,  a  few  rods  distant,  to 
allay  our  thirst.  Old  Ringe  and  his  son-in- 
law  followed,  incessantly  talking.  He  re- 
iterated that  he  was  guiltless,  and  impli- 
cated the  young  German.  At  length  I 
abrubtly  said, — 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  167 

"  Mr.  Riiige,  it  is  an  old  proverb  that 
*  murder  will  out.'  I  have  much  faith  in 
that  saying,  and  for  this  reason :  There 
is  a  God.  His  eye  is  ever  on  us.  He  has 
said,  'Thou  shalt  not  kill.'  He  can  alone 
give  life.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest  crimes 
possible  for  man  wantonly  to  destroy  that 
life.  God  is  the  Governor  of  the  world, 
and  he  will  punish  the  murderer.  For 
the  safety  of  society,  and  that  bad  men 
may  be  deterred  from  this  highest  form  of 
sin,  he  takes  special  pains  to  bring  to  light 
the  murderer.  From  him  there  can  be  no 
such  thing  as  escape.  Man  is  sometimes 
deceived  and  foiled,  but  God  never  ! " 

His  countenance  grew  dark.  The  clamor 
of  his  tongue  ceased,  and  for  a  few  mo- 
ments we  were  permitted  to  think  in  quiet 
as  we  stretched  ourselves  by  the  fountain's 
side. 


168  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

Returning  to  the  cabin,  I  had  seated 
myself  on  a  log,  Ringe  and  Shuber  by 
my  side,  —  for  they  did  not  lose  sight  of 
me,  —  when  the  former  stealthily  left  me, 
and  went  to  the  south  side  of  the  dwelling. 
A  small  ell  had  been  attached  to  the  main 
building.  That  only  had  been  occupied 
by  the  owner,  as  the  rest  of  the  cabin  was 
unfinished.  In  front  of  the  ell  was  a  high 
rail  fence,  making  a  snug  enclosure  a  few 
feet  square  before  the  door.  Ringe  stopped 
at  the  little  yard,  and  stood  intently  look- 
ing, now  on  the  ground,  now  in  at  the 
door.  Was  he  afraid  that  some  clew  had 
been  left  there  by  the  assassin?  His 
manner  was  eager  and  shy.  Springing 
over  the  fence,  I  began  to  pick  up  frag- 
ments of  letters  thickly  scattered  among 
the  loose  straw,  when  suddenly  it  occurred 
to  me  that  that  was  the  place  where   the 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  169 

fiend  had  laid  in  wait  for  his  victim.  The 
Englishman  had  been  shot  on  the  other 
side  of  his  house.  From  the  condition  of 
his  field,  and  the  fact  that  his  hoe  and 
pipe  were  near  where  he  fell,  it  was  plain 
that  he  had  been  hoeing,  and  had  left  his 
work  in  order  to  rest  and  smoke  a  while. 
The  murderer  having  crept  into  his  cabin, 
had  no  doubt  shot  him  then.  But  if  so, 
as  there  was  no  window  on  that  side  of 
the  house,  an  aperture  must  have  been 
made  in  the  building,  through  which  to 
take  aim.  A  bed  stood  before  the  open 
door  against  the  northern  wall.  Getting 
upon  that,  I  saw  an  opening  had  indeed 
been  made.  It  looked  out  over  the  bloody 
spot.  Calling  a  neighbor,  and  directing 
him  to  stand  by  the  spot,  I  found  he  was 
in  exact  range. 

Ringe  and  Shuber  were  arrested  on  sus- 
picion. 


170  ON  THE   FRONTIER. 

The  justice,  before  whom  the  first  trial 
was  to  occur,  resided  at  a  newly-settled 
town,  twelve  miles  from  our  place.  A 
friend,  who  acted  as  sheriff,  invited  me  to« 
ride  over  with  him.  Before  the  justice's 
cabin  were  a  large  number  of  persons  watch- 
ing our  buggy  as  we  drove  up.  Old  Ringe 
and  his  friends  were  among  them,  and,  as 
I  alighted,  he  came  forward,  extending  his 
hand  as  to  an  old  acquaintance,  saying,  — 

''  Welcome  !  welcome  !  Glad  to  see  the 
minister,  —  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  be  here. 
You  will  want  justice  done.  You  won't 
stand  by  and  see  an  innocent  man  like  me 
falsely  condemned.  Look  at  my  gray  hairs 
and  my  dim  eyes.  Why,  sir,  these  poor 
eyes  couldn't  see  to  shoot  a  man,  even  if 
I  wished  to  take  the  life  of  a  fellow-creature. 
But  why  should  I  do  such  a  thing?  I  am 
almost   in   my  grave,  —  have   but    a    few 


ON  THE  FRONTIER.  171 

days  here,  at  most.  No,  no,  you  are  a 
minister  of  Christ,  and  I  know  you  can't 
have  an  old  man  like  me  hung,  —  I  know 
you  can't ! " 

This  appeal,  so  unexpected,  so  affecting 
in  its  allusion  to  his  advanced  years, 
uttered  in  the  thrilling  tones  of  one  who 
felt  that  his  life  was  at  stake,  came  near 
unmanning  me.  Releasing  myself  from  his 
grasp,  I  said,  aside  to  the  sheriff,  "  How  is 
this  ?  Persons  arrested  for  a  capital  offence 
at  large  —  prisoners  and  witnesses  mingling 
freely  together  !  What  does  this  mean  ? 
Why,  they  can  agree  on  any  testimony  they 
choose !  " 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  easy  official,  "  never 
mind  ;  the  lawyers  will  pick  the  witnesses 
to  pieces  when  they  come  to  the  stand !  " 

At  the  hotel  a  mile  off,  after  tea,  old 
Ringe  met  me  again,  with  the  most  touch- 


172  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

ing  and  insinuating  appeals.  They  were 
hard  to  withstand,  even  from  him.  And 
when,  next  morning,  he  renewed  his  en- 
treaties, I  said, — 

"  Mr.  Ringe,  it  is  useless  to  appeal  to  me 
in  this  way.  You  know  that  I  would  not 
wrong  you  for  the  world.  I  shall  state,  as 
a  witness,  only  what  I  have  seen  and  heard, 
no  more,  no  less.  I  can  keep  back  nothing. 
I  shall  add  nothing.  This  is  all  I  could 
promise  the  dearest  friend  on  earth." 

As  I  spoke,  a  stern,  bitter  glance  shot 
from  his  eyes,  and  a  deathly  pallor  spread 
over  his  face.  He  avoided  me  from  that 
time. 

"Would  you  like  to  ride  a  few  miles 
before  court?"  asked  the  sheriff.  "I  am 
going  for  two  of  Ringe's  daughters,  who 
were  from  li^me  at  the  time  of  the  murder. 
He   says  he   can   prove   by  them  that  the 


ON    THE   FRONTIER.  173 

young  German  intended  to  kill  Callahan. 
He  states  that  they  dropped  corn  for  the 
German  a  short  time  before  the  murdered 
man  was  shot,  and  that  he  had  tried  to 
hire  them  to  poison  Callahan,  that  he  might 
get  his  '  claim.'  " 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  there  is  one  request  I 
wish  to  make ;  and  that  is,  that  the  girls 
shall  not  be  tampered  with  by  the  father, 
or  any  of  his  witnesses." 

"  Don't  see  the  need  of  that.  But  if  you 
wish  it,  I  can  take  them  to  another  house, 
and  keep  them  there  till  you  see  the  justice 
about  it." 

They  were  singular  enough  in  appearance. 
Short,  stout,  tawny ;  with  large,  oval  eyes ; 
ears  so  long  as  to  look  inhuman  ;  bold  faces, 
and  an  oily  speech.  I  had  heard  that  they 
could  lie  and  steal,  and  what  might  they 
not  do,  if  their   own   father  was   ready  to 


174  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

testify  that  their  employer  had  sought  to 
bribe  them  to  poison  his  neighbor  ? 

"Father  didn't  kill  that  man!"  said  one 
of  them,  sharply. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ? "  asked  the 
officer. 

"  Because  he's  almost  blind,  he's  so  old. 
He  couldn't  see,"  she  added,  "  if  he  was 
here  in  this  wagon,  to  shoot  the  tail  of 
that  horse  ! " 

"  How  does  that  agree  with  his  deer- 
hunting  before  daylight  ?  "  said  the  sheriff. 

The  girls  were  kept  secluded,  despite  the 
ravings  of  the  father  and  the  arts  of  his 
supporters  ;  and  it  was  significant  that  they 
were  not  summoned  as  witnesses,  nor  was 
the  German  accused. 

During  the  trial,  the  State's  attorney, 
taking  me  aside,  said,  "  Search  should  be 
made   through   the  neighborhood  in  which 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  175 

the  murder  was  committed,  for  evidence 
that  may  serve  as  a  clew  to  the  murderer. 
I  am  persuaded  that  if  any  thing  can  yet 
be  found,  you  can  discover  it.  "Would  you 
be  deputized  for  that  purpose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  rather  than  let  the  criminal  es- 
cape." 

His  horse  and  buggy  were  placed  at  my 
service,  and,  accompanied  by  a  Frenchman, 
and  a  substantial  farmer,  I  soon  arrived  at 
our  place  of  destination.  Cabin  after  cabin 
was  visited,  boxes  and  trunks  opened,  beds 
stripped,  floors  taken  up,  each  nook  and 
cranny  scrutinized,  without  avail.  Repair- 
ing to  the  creek,  I  noticed  that  on  the 
stumps  of  the  willows,  that  had  been  felled 
to  conceal  the  body  of  the  murdered  man, 
gaps  in  the  ax  used,  had  left  their  impress 
on  the  wood.  The  farmer  at  once  cut  otF 
the  willow  stumps,  and  taking  them  with 


176  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

US,  we  examined  the  axes  in  the  neighbor- 
liood.  In  Ringe's  house  was  one,  the  edge 
of  which  corresponded  perfectly  with  the 
impression  in  the  wood.  The  steel  and  the 
helve  were  also  bloody. 

"Now  look  sharp  for  bloody  garments," 
said  I. 

A  low,  unlighted  attic,  to  which  access 
was  had  by  a  ladder,  held  the  accumulated 
cast-o£fs  of  the  household.  Such  a  dusty, 
filthy  collection  !  Only  the  friendship  cher- 
ished for  the  inoffensive  deceased,  deepened 
by  that  peculiar  interest  felt  in  one  for 
whom  the  Christian  minister  has  toiled  and 
prayed,  and  a  strong  desire  that  justice 
should  be  done,  could  have  borne  me 
through  the  repulsive  task.  The  search 
was  vain. 

"  Mr.  D.,  hadn't  we  better  give  it  up  ? " 
cried  the  farmer.  "  It's  getting  late,  and 
we've  seen  all  tliis  house  has  to  show  ! " 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  177 

"A  moment  more,"  I  replied,  as  I  remem- 
bered that  two  beds,  lying  side  by  side  on 
the  floor,  had  not  been  removed.  Lifting 
them  up,  we  found  beneath  one  a  man's 
shirt,  the  arm  and  shoulder  saturated  with 
blood. 

As  we  reentered  the  court-room  with  the 
discoveries  we  had  made,  a  deep  silence 
prevailed.  We  had  brought  also  another 
witness,  who  testified  that  old  Ringe  at- 
tempted, on  one  occasion,  to  burn  Callahan 
to  death  ;  and  that  the  old  man  had  re- 
peatedly said  in  his  presence  that  he  meant 
to  kill  him  yet.  The  ax,  willows,  and 
garment  were  critically  examined,  the  coun- 
sel for  the  prisoners  not  being  able  to  ex- 
plain away  the  evidence  thus  presented. 

That  night  I  slept  in  the  same  room  with 
one  of  Ringe's  lawyers.  I  shall  not  soon 
forget  him,  and  the  developments  of  our 
12 


178  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

interview.  He  had  a  calm,  keen  eye  ;  dark 
hair  thrown  back  from  a  finely-turned  fore- 
head ;  a  physiognomy  sincere  and  refined. 
In  his  address  there  was  a  perfect  air  of 
good-breeding  that  inspired  respect.  He  had 
an  acute  and  logical  mind,  liberal  acquire- 
ments, and  a  well-balanced  intellectual  and 
moral  character.  He  realized  my  ideal  of 
a  learned,  cultivated,  upright  lawyer.  A 
protege  of  Hon.  Mr.  Giddings,  he  had  come 
to  Minnesota  on  account  of  impaired  health, 
and  this  was  his  first  case  in  the  territory. 
After  retiring  to  our  room,  he  wished  to 
know  the  particulars  of  the  terrible  tragedy. 
The  narrative  impressed  him  deeply.  I 
soon  after  fell  asleep,  but  was  in  a  short 
time  awakened  by  his  groaning  and  rest- 
lessness. 

"Are  you  ill?"  I  asked. 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "  but  it  is  so  horrible, 
so  horrible.  —  thnt  murder!" 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  179 

Again,  as  he  turned  from  side  to  side, 
he  exclaimed, "  Blood  cries  from  the  ground 
for  vengeance  !  " 

And  this  was  the  man  who,  in  the  court- 
room, was  so  unimpassioned,  permitting 
nothing  to  pass  that  was  adverse  to  his 
client,  without  the  most  searching  scrutiny ! 

Before  day  broke,  he  said,  "  I  have  been 
dreadfully  harassed  by  this  case."  Then, 
after  a  few  moments,  he  added,  "  I  have 
no  doubt  of  ^  the  guilt  of  that  old  man. 
He's  the  murderer  ;  but  I  can  clear  him. 
My  partner  has  proposed  a  plan,  which  I 
am  not  at  liberty  to  explain,  that  must  be 
effectual.  What  shall  I  do  ?  Help  spring 
the  legal  trap,  and  let  the  criminal  loose, 
and  thus  succeed  professionally,  or  not  ?  " 

"  Let  me  entreat  you,"  said  I,  "  to  do 
right.  God  will  bless  you  in  it,  and  you 
•    will  have  a  clear  conscience." 


180  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

"I  will  think  it  over,"  he  replied,  "and 
see  what  I  can  do,"  and  he  relapsed  into 
his  uneasy  slumbers. 

With  eager  scrutiny  I  studied  his  coun- 
tenance in  court  the  next  day  to  ascertain 
his  decision.  In  vain.  I  trembled  for  him, 
so  severely  loyal  did  he  seem  to  his  client's 
interests,  and  true  to  the  pride  of  success. 
But  his  sterling,  moral  principle  prevailed 
and  Ringe  and  Shuber  were  recommitted. 

He  knew  my  anxiety,  and  said,  as  he 
passed  from  the  court-room,  with  a  happy 
smile  upon  his  handsome  face, — 

"  Did  I  do  right  ?  " 

As  for  myself,  procuring  a  box,  I  put  the 
ax,  willows,  and  shirt  in  it,  in  the  presence 
of  suitable  witnesses,  and  committed  the 
whole  to  the  justice  for  safe  keeping. 

No  jail  had  been  built.  The  sheriff, 
therefore,    took    the    accused    to    his   own 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  181 

home.  He  lived  quite  a  distance  from  the 
culprit's  place,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
the  cunning  old  man  had  so  won  upon  his 
unsuspecting  nature,  as  to  be  permitted  to 
hire  out  as  a  day  laborer.  Wherever  he 
went  he  pleaded  his  cause  so  effectually 
that  the  public  mind  became*  strongly  ex- 
cited in  his  behalf.  He  made  also  another 
diversion  in  his  own  favor.  Among  his 
children  was  one,  familiarly  called  Bill, 
who  was  about  eighteen  years  of  age.  He 
was  the  youngest  of  his  boys,  as  well  as 
the  whitest.  He  was  a  great  rogue,  and 
was  well  known  as  such.  His  father  called 
him  half-witted,  but  he  was  an  adept  in  vil- 
lainy. Horse-Stealing,  robbing  trunks,  mon- 
ey-drawers, and  stores  of  their  goods,  were 
among  his  exploits.  Over  the  vices  of  his 
boy,  Ringe  whined  and  groaned  among 
his  new  friends,  and  at  last  accused  Bill  of 


182  ON    THE   FRONTIER. 

being  the  murderer.  The  lie  was  believed. 
When  the  witnesses  of  the  State  went  to 
the  second  trial,  they  found  that  the  settlers 
at  the  countj-seat  and  vicinity  had  pre- 
judged the  case.  A  jury  was  drawn  from 
the  material  at  hand,  and,  although  on  hear- 
ing both  sides  most  of  them  modified  their 
views  of  the  case,  such  was  the  previous 
condition  of  their  minds,  coupled  with  the 
fact,  perhaps,  as  stated  afterward  by  a 
juror,  that  several  of  their  number  were 
"opposed  to  capital  punishment,"  Ringe 
and  his  confederate  were  cleared. 

The  terror  that  this  result  inspired 
among  those  who  had  been  active  in  en- 
deavoring to  bring  the  perpetrators  of  the 
murder  to  light,  can  not  be  described. 

The  Norwegian  went  armed.  Every 
night  he  and  his  family  slept  in  the 
wretched    attic     of    his    low-roofed    cabin, 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  183 

drawing  the  ladder  up  after  them  on  re- 
tiring. But  this  state  of  things  could  not 
be  endured.  A  party  of  resolute  men 
went  to  the  cabin  of  liberated  desperadoes, 
and  warned  them  off,  on  pain  of  forcible 
ejection.     They  soon  disappeared. 

The  murdered  man's  valuable  "  claim," 
with  its  movable  property,  that  his  assassins 
had  intended  should  become  theirs,  were 
sold  at  a  good  price.  The  fragments  of 
paper  which  I  had  saved,  on  being  put 
together,  proved  to  be  a  letter  from  a 
brother  of  Callahan,  residing  in  Lowell, 
Massachusetts,  to  whom  we  had  the  pleasure 
of  sending  the  avails  of  the  estate. 

Who  can  predict  the  next  new  thing  that 
will  transpire  on  the  frontier  ?  One  day, 
some  two  months  after  Ringe's  final  trial, 
an  elderly  man  called  on  me,  and  said,  — 

"  I  have  come  to  ask,  sir,  if  you  will  not 


184  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

make  a  five  o'clock  appointment,  some 
Sabbath,  to  preach  at  my  place.  We  have 
a  very  respectable  community  there,  sir, 
now.  Many  new  families  have  come  in, 
and  we  would  like  to  hear  a  gospel  ser- 
mon now  and  then." 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  At  Slough  Creek,  seven  miles  from 
here." 

AsscQting  to  the  request,  the  next  Sab- 
bath found  me  on  my  way  there. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  Mr.  C.  lives  ?  " 
I  asked  of  a  well-dressed  woman  whom  I 
overtook. 

"  Just  through  the  woods,  a  few  rods, 
the  first  house,"  she  replied. 

On  arriving,  what  was  my  surprise  to 
find  that  the  meeting  was  to  be  at  Ringe's 
log-house,  now  in  new  hands,  and  refitted 
and  enlarged  so  as  to  present  quite  a  neat 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  185 

and  comfortable  appearance.  There  was 
a  good  attendance  and  earnest  attention. 
Among  the  audience,  here  and  there,  was 
one  who  had  been  partially  of  Ringe's 
company.  They  listened  with  no  less  re- 
spect because  of  the  part  I  had  taken  in 
seeking  to  make  the  power  of  the  law  felt 
among  the  lawless  dwellers  upon  our 
frontier. 


186  ON  THE   FRONTIER. 


FRONTIER     WOMEN. 

The  gentler  traits  of  womanly  character 
find  little  expression  on  the  outskirts  of 
civilization.  When  the  wife  and  mother 
turns  her  back  on  her  Eastern  home,  she 
enters  on  scenes  which  change  the  whole 
current  of  her  existence,  and  often  seem  to 
make  her  a  new  being.  It  is  interesting 
to  notice  how  the  transition  process  varies 
in  different  persons. 

Some  are  persuaded  into  emigration. 
They  start  on  the  journey  reluctantly, 
clinging  to  the  old,  familiar  places.  They 
have  no  day-dreams  to  lure  them — no 
heart  for  the  transplanting.  From  regard 
to  others  they  join  the  restless  tide  that 


ON    THE   FRONTIER.  187 

sets  toward  the  West.  Others  take  the 
"  Western  fever "  as  readily  as  their  hus- 
bands, and  clothe  the  stern  realities  of 
removal  with  a  roseate  hue,  seeing  only 
ease,  comfort,  competency  in  prospective. 
But  when,  at  the  end  of  their  journey,  they 
take  up  their  abode  in  a  wild  prairie, 

"  Alone,  alone,  all,  all  alone, 
Alone  on  a  wide,  wide  sea  " 

of  vegetation,  and  dead-level  monotony; 
no  churches,  no  school-houses,  scarcely  a 
neighbor  to  speak  to,  friends  and  kindred 
far  away,  —  how  the  thermometer  of  the 
feelings  goes  down !  how  the  air-castles 
vanish ! 

But  if  you  think  either  of  these  classes 
make  poor  pioneers,  you  mistake. 

There  was  Mrs.  S.,  a  practical,  matter- 
of-fact    person,    unsusceptible   to   the    love 


188  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

of  adventure  or  of  change.  Submit  any 
scheme  to  her,  and,  however  dazzling  it 
might  be  to  an  ardent  nature,  she  looked 
at  it  in  the  light  of  fact,  reckoning  up  the 
pros  and  cons  with  mathematical  coolness. 
When,  therefore,  her  husband  became  ex- 
cited by  accounts  of  the  cheap  lands,  sure 
to  rise,  the  fertile  soil  and  healthful  climate 
of  Minnesota,  she  was  calm.  When  he 
suggested  emigrating,  she  was  unmoved. 
Toil,  deprivation,  disappointment  were  in- 
visible to  liis  enthusiasm,  but  to  her  they 
stood  revealed  as  verities,  and  to  argue 
with  her  was  useless.  Indeed,  looking  at 
their  present  condition,  why  should  she  be 
in  haste  to  abandon  it  for  a  life  both  new 
and  dubious  ?  Their  pleasant  home,  with 
its  broad  acres  and  fine  buildings,  they 
owned.  Educational  privileges  were  ex- 
cellent.     Her   husband   was  honored   with 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  189 

office  in  church  and  state.  But  the  more 
Mr.  S.  talked  about  a  removal,  the  more 
his  zeal  was  inflamed.  The  wife  saw  that 
his  happiness  was  bound  up  in  the  matter, 
and  more  than  that,  his  health,  perhaps. 
Often  prostrated  by  acute  disease,  he  had 
been  recommended  to  try  the  climate  of 
the  Northwest  as  a  remedy.  This  consid- 
eration turned  the  scale  in  his  favor.  The 
homestead  was  sold,  the  furniture,  farm 
implements,  &c.,  advertised  for  sale  at  pub- 
lic auction.  The  avails  of  these,  together 
with  the  "  first  payment "  on  the  house, 
were  to  furnish  the  money  for  use  in  the 
new  home. 

Mr.  S.,  however,  after  all  his  pleading, 
felt  a  little  disheartened,  when,  the  very 
night  before  the  appointed  sale,  his  goods 
took  fire  and  burned  up.  But  the  wife  had 
decided  to  go,  and  this  untoward  event  did 


190  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

not  discourage  her.  As  they  were  to  travel 
by  their  own  conveyance,  the  emigrant 
wagon  was  made  ready,  and,  with  bedding, 
food,  and  cooking  utensils  packed,  poultry- 
crate  lashed  behind,  and  the  children 
aboard,  they  started  on  their  thousand 
miles^  journey !  The  first  day  all  went 
^' merry  as  a  marriage  bell,"  but  at  night, 
Mr.  S.  came  down  with  ague  and  fever. 
He  was  utterly  prostrated,  and  proposed 
to  give  up  the  expedition  and  return. 

"  No !  "  replied  the  wife,  who  had  as- 
sumed the  office  of  driver,  "I  am  not 
going  to  drive  these  horses  back  again 
and  be  laughed  at  by  the  neighbors !  Be- 
sides, if  Minnesota  will  cure  you,  you 
need  more  than  ever  to  go  there  now,  and 
/  shall  not  give  up  till  we  are  there." 

She  kept  her  word ;  becoming  coach- 
man,   doctress,    nurse,    cook,    and    guide. 


ON    THE   FKONTIER.  191 

She  selected  the  camping-place  at  night, 
groomed  the  horses,  took  care  not  only  of 
the  babies,  but  of  her  husband.  It  was 
she  that  inquired  the  route,  led  the  horses 
safely  around  "  sloughs,"  and  forded 
bridgeless  streams,  and,  at  last  Mr.  S. 
being  still  helpless,  she  picked  out  a 
"  claim "  on  the  frontier,  and  a  valu- 
able one  it  was,  combining  water,  grass- 
land, plowing,  timber,  and  nearness  to  a 
young  town.  She  made  their  temporary 
shanty  comfortable  as  possible,  until,  his 
payments  coming  in  and  his  land  rising, 
he  was  able  to  build  a  framed  house.  Not 
a  word  of  complaint,  reproach,  or  discour- 
agement passed  her  lips  through  all  this, 
nor  did  sickness  and  danger  appall  her. 

An  incident  will  illustrate  her  self-pos- 
session. There  had  been  occasional  depre- 
dations by  the   Indians.     Still  further  on 


192  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

the  frontier  a  bloody  massacre  of  whites 
had  taken  place,  and  women  were  carried 
off  captives.  There  were  rumors  of  fur- 
ther trouble,  as  the  savages  were  concen- 
trating in  force,  and,  mounted  on  their 
ponies,  thev  could  make  a  long  sweep  in 
a  night. 

One  day  alone,  Mrs.  S.  stood  before  the 
looking-glass  attending  to  her  toilet.  The 
cabin  door  was  open,  and  her  back  toward 
it.  Suddenly,  she  saw  in  the  mirror  the 
reflection  of  an  Indian  entering.  Before 
she  could  turn  herself,  he  had  glided 
across  the  room  in  his  soft  moccasins,  and 
laid  hold  of  her.  She  gave  no  sign  of 
.  terror,  however  —  always  the  proper  con- 
duct in  dealing  with  savages,  as  they  re- 
spect courage,  and  suspect  some  hidden 
power  behind  it.  He  gently  seized  her 
long,   flowing    locks,   remarkable   for   their 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  193 

luxuriant  beauty,  and  measuring  them 
with  his  arm,  uttered  an  admiring  excla- 
mation, then  released  her,  and  departed 
as  he  came ! 

Mrs.  N.,  another  Western  woman,  was 
also  quite  a  heroine.  She  was  hostess  of 
the  first  tavern  at  which  the  stage  left  me 
on  arriving  in  Minnesota.  It  was  a  rough 
log-house.  There  was  in  process  of  build- 
ing a  small  framed  addition  to  it.  Before 
this  was  a  cellar,  dug  in  anticipation  of 
another  "  raising."  Across  this  excavation 
we  had  to  walk  on  a  narrow  plank  to  gain 
admittance  to  the  house.  The  doctors  I 
had  left  behind  cautioned  me  not  to  sit  or 
sleep  in  a  current  of  air.  That  night,  in 
company  with  a  clerical  friend,  who  felt 
quite  merry  at  the  aspect  of  things,  I 
slept  with  the  stars  full  in  sight  through 
the  roof,  while  the  winds  sighed,  and  wliis- 
13 


194  ON  THE   FRONTIER. 

tied,  and  moaned,  and  frolicked  in  and 
out  the  apartment,  as  the  humor  suited 
them.  However,  the  next  morning  found 
us  both,  to  our  surprise,  invigorated  by 
the  air  baths  we  had  taken. 

At  breakfast,  I  felt  a  little  anxious  to 
know  how  our  merriment  over  hotel-life 
in  Minnesota  had  been  received  by  our 
landlady,  who  must  have  heard  some  of 
our  criticisms.  She  impressed  me  as  a 
lady  of  culture,  and  took  our  remarks  as 
a  matter  of  course.  We  soon  learned 
something  of  her  history.  Her  husband 
was  from  the  East,  a  man  of  some  prop- 
erty. He  made  his  claim  where  I  now 
found  him,  when  there  was  scarcely  a 
cabin  in  the  regiou,  confident  that  the  site 
was  a  good  one  for  a  town.  It  was  a 
wild,  lonely  spot,  on  the  margin  of  a 
foaming  stream,  and  between  huge,  shaggy 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  196 

blujBfs,  crowned  with  forests,  in  which  the 
Indian  and  the  wild  beast  roamed.  Aside 
from  the  fish  and  game  which  abounded, 
all  their  supplies  were  brought  from  some 
trading  point  on  the  Mississippi.  When 
her  husband  was  on  his  long  journeys  for 
this  purpose,  she  was  sometimes  left  alone. 

"  Did  you  not  feel  discontented  under 
such  circumstances  ?  "  we  asked. 

"  Not  in  ihe  least.  My  husband  thoiight 
it  best  to  remove  here,  and  that  was 
enough.  What  was  best  for  him,  was  best 
for  me!'' 

^'But  were  you  not  troubled  by  the  In- 
dians ? " 

"Yes,  at  that  time,  very  much.  They 
were  afraid  of  our  workmen,  and  would 
behave  very  well  when  a  few  white  men 
were  around,  but  they  always  endeavored 
to  impose  on  us  when  unprotected." 


19i3  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

"  What  did  you  do  at  such  times  ?  " 
*'  Put  on  a  bold  face,  and  let  them  see 
that  I  did  not  fear  them.  I  am  aston- 
ished at  the  nerve  I  had.  One  day  my 
husband  was  away.  Quite  suddenly  a  Si- 
oux came  into  the  house,  and,  without 
saying  a  word,  took  a  seat.  Another  fol- 
lowed, and  another,  until  a  dozen  had 
entered.  Perceiving  that  I  was  alone, 
they  commenced  searching  the  house  for 
plunder ;  examining  boxes,  trunks,  and 
barrels.  I  had,  however,  by  way  of  pre- 
caution, concealed  what  I  could,  and  they 
did  not  find  much.  But  they  soon  grew 
saucy  and  turbulent,  and  what  added  to 
my  apprehension  was,  the  fact  that  the 
leader  of  the  party  was  half  intoxicated. 
Still,  as  they  had  no  arms,  I  thought  I 
could  manage  them.  After  a  time  the 
chief  chanced   to    see   my   husband's   rifle, 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  197 

hanging  overhead.  It  was  loaded  and 
capped.  He  started  to  get  it.  I  divined 
his  object,  and  started  too,  and  as  he  was 
taking  it  down,  I  said,  sternly, — 

"Put  that  rifle  back!" 

He  made  a  taunting  gesture,  and  I  at- 
tempted to  wrest  the  rifle  from  him.  We 
struggled,  —  I  with  the  strength  of  despe- 
ration, for  I  well  knew  it  would  be  a  dan- 
gerous weapon  in  his  hands,  besides  it 
was  my  only  protection.  None  of  his  fol- 
lowers interfered  while  we  contended  for 
the  mastery,  but  my  courage  led  him  to 
suspect  that  help  was  at  hand,  and,  still 
grasping  the  gun,  he  asked, — 

"  White  man  coming  back  bime-by  ? " 
A  question  which  meant.  Will  he  be  long 
in  coming  ?     I  quickly  replied,  — 

"  No.  White  man  coming  back  bime-by 
quick ! "     This  startled  him,  for   he   knew 


198  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

he  had  provoked  retaliation,  and  hastily 
leaving,  followed  by  his  troop,  they  mounted 
their  ponies,  and  drove  off  at  full  speed. 

"  I  had  also,"  said  she,  "  a  little  adven- 
ture with  the  wolves.  One  day,  feeling 
lonely,  I  spent  the  afternoon  at  a  neigh- 
bor's. On  my  return  at  dusk,  there  had 
been  a  light  fall  of  snow.  When  nearly 
home,  I  noticed  that  a  large  gray  wolf 
was  stealthily  following  me.  I  entered  the 
door  and  closed  it  instantly ;  but,  would 
you  believe  me,  that  creature,  being  very 
hungry,  I  suppose,  sat  watching  on  the 
door-step  all  that  long  winter's  night !  He 
fled  next  morning  at  the  approach  of  a 
settler." 

There  was  Mrs.  L.,  too,  a  little  butterfly 
of  a  woman,  who  had  always  been  happy 
in  Xew  England.  Her  husband  was  a 
hard-working   man,    and   took   great   pride 


I  NOTICED  A  Grey  Wolf.    Frontier,  p.  198- 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  199 

in  beautifying  the  cottage  he  had  built. 
It  was  not  paid  for,  however,  and  at 
length  he  wearied  somewhat  of  the  toil 
needed  to  clear  it  of  pecuniary  encum- 
brance. Hearing  of  the  cheap  lands  of 
the  West  did  not  lighten  his  burden,  and 
he  decided  to  emigrate.  She  joined  in 
the  project  with  alacrity,  for  her  fancy 
painted  a  prairie  home  as  a  garden  of 
delights.  She  reached  their  El  Dorado 
under  most  forbidding  circumstances.  It 
was  in  late  autumn,  when  the  landscape 
stretched  away  bloomless  and  sear,  and 
the  cold  rains  were  falling.  It  was  indeed 
dismal  without,  and  the  cramped,  uncouth 
log-and-mud  house  which  received  her  as 
boarder,  compared  illy  with  the  tasteful 
dwelling  she  had  left  behind.  What  a 
revulsion  of  feeling  was  hers !  She  wept 
for   weeks,   and    refused    to   be   comforted. 


200  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

Some  of  the  settlers  thought  her  case 
hopeless  —  that  she  would  never  do  for 
the  West,  mere  New  England  doll  that 
she  was !  But  she  had  her  cry  out ;  and, 
like  a  true  woman,  when  her  husband, 
apparently  moved  by  her  grief,  and  home- 
sick himself,  —  yet  secretly  glad  of  a  pre- 
text,—  offered  to  give  up  and  return,  she 
resented  it! 

"  Go  back !  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  no,  I 
shall  not  be  ready  to  return  until  our 
Massachusetts  friends  see  that  we  have 
been  successful  in  coming  out,  and  have 
been  profited  by  the  change."  And  of  all 
busy  women,  Mrs.  L.  became  one  of  the 
busiest.  Henceforth  it  was  smiles  and 
work  with  her,  and  her  quiet  laugh  and 
cheerful  face  made  sunshine  of  darkest 
days. 

Often  her    little    figure    might    be  seen 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  201 

tugging  her  baby  across  the  prairie  to  a 
neighbor's,  to  collect  rare  seeds,  or  bar- 
gain for  hens.  Her  faculties  were  ever 
on  the  alert,  devising  something  to  make 
home  comfortable;  nor  did  snow,  rain, 
loneliness,  or  sickness  diminish  her  zeal. 
Neuralgia,  aggravated  by  exposure,  low 
diet  and  miasma,  often  prevails  on  the 
frontier.  I  have  seen  the  hardiest  pio- 
neers writhe  in  agony,  completely  unmanned 
by  it  —  never  at  such  times  venturing  into 
the  open  air.  Mrs.  L.  did  not  escape  the 
disease.  But  what  was  my  astonishment, 
on  one  of  those  doleful  days  in  November, 
when  a  drizzling  rain,  driven  by  a  cold 
wind,  "  sent  mildew  into  the  bones,"  to 
see  Mrs.  L.  perched  on  the  top  of  a  load 
of  lumber,  drawn  by  oxen.  Her  face  was 
bound  up  as  if  nursing  the  toothache,  and 
she   told   me,   with   a   ringing   laugh,   that 


202  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

she  had  ridden  twenty-four  miles  at  that 
snail's  pace,  and  had  had  three  teeth  ex- 
tracted ! 

Mrs.  Myers,  too,  was  another  heroine 
whom  I  unexpectedly  met,  leading  almost 
the  life  of  a  recluse  in  the  deep  gloom  of 
a  humble  forest  home.  It  was  on  this 
wise.     Passing  through  the  shaded  path  of 

heavy-timbered   land,    on   K River,   in 

a  journey  which  I  made  on  horseback,  I 
came  to  the  brink  of  a  roaring  torrent 
where  stood  a  mill.  As  I  was  looking  for 
a  i^ace  to  feed  my  horse,  a  man  came  for- 
ward, extended  his  hand,   and  said, — 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  D.  ?  What 
brought   you   away   up   here  ?     Don't   you 

know  me?     My  name  is. Myers,  of  P , 

Massachusetts."  But  what  a  change  a  few 
months  of  another  climate  and  new  habits 
had  wrought  in  my  old  friend.     From  the 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  203 

pale,  almost  effeminate  dealer  in  dry  goods, 
he  had  grown  to  be  bushy-whiskered  and 
portly,  his  cheeks  fairly  shaking  with  fat. 
"  Do  you  live  here  ? ''  I  asked, 
"  Yes ;  came  here  last  fall,  with  my  wife, 
and  wfeitered  among  the  bears  and  wolves, 
making  shingles.  You  see,"  said  he,  al- 
luding to  his  weighty  appearance,  "  I  have 
been  a  gainer  by  it.  Never  knew  what 
it  was  to  have  an  appetite  before.  The 
cold  last  winter  made  me  ravenous;  and 
though  we  had  no  market,  you  see  we 
did  not  exactly  starve.  But,  come,  my 
wife  will  want  to  see  you ;  the  face  of  an 
old  acquaintance  will  be  next  to  going 
home  again." 

A  low,  snug  shanty  of  oaken  boards, 
just  large  enough  to  admit  in  its  one 
room  a  bedstead,  stove,  table,  and  a  few 
home-made   chairs,   was   Mrs.    Myers's   em- 


20 J:  ON    TUE    FRONTIER. 

pire  —  quite  in  contrast  with  her  Eastern 
style.  She  was  a  gentle,  lady-like  person, 
had  been  a  successful  teacher  before  mar- 
riage, and  was  an  accomplished  musician. 
She  cordially  greeted  me,  saying, — 

"  I  shall  make  no  apologies.  I  am  too 
glad  to  see  a  human  being  in  these  wilds, 
to  care  for  aught  else.  Since  we  came 
here,  not  a  person  has  been  at  our  place, 
save  the  few  who  chanced  here  for  shin- 
gles, all  strangers  to  me,  and  such  a  long, 
cold  winter  I  never  experienced.  Until 
the  snow  melted,  late  in  the  spring,  we 
were  quite  alone." 

"  Were  you  not  homesick  and  gloomy  ?  " 
"  Only  once,  and  tliat  was  the  last  of 
February.  It  had  been  an  almost  uninter- 
rupted succession  of  storms.  It  was  noth- 
ing but  snow,  snow,  snow.  We  could 
not  get  out  for  any  purpose,  and  our  sup- 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  205 

plies  were  running  low.  We  seemed  to  be 
completely  shut  away  from  the  world  — 
the  only  living  creatures,  save  a  neighbor 
in  the  cabin  at  the  extremity  of  the  woods, 
that  we  knew  of,  being  a  pack  of  wolves 
that  sometimes  swept  by.  On  one  occa- 
sion, my  husband  estimated  that  there 
were  not  less  than  thirty  in  the  pack. 
Tiiat  was  a  dismal  time  ;  and  one  stormy 
day,  when  the  air  was  filled  with  snow,  and 
the  winds  were  sighing  through  the  trees,  my 
heart  sank  within  me.  And  I  rather  sus- 
pect," said  she,  archly  glancing  at  her  hus- 
band, "  that  Mr.  Myers  did  not  feel  much 
better  than  I  did.  Just  then,  when  I  felt 
like  giving  up  entirely,  I  heard  a  little 
song  —  a  clear,  cheerful  piping  of  a  bird. 
You  can  not  tell  how  it  thrilled  and 
cheered  me.  I  looked  from  the  window 
to   see  from  whence  the   sound   came,  and 


206  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

there,  right  on  the  corner  of  our  dwelling, 
sat  the  tiniest  creature,  caroling  just  as 
if  it  was  June.  This  gave  us  both  fresh 
courage.     Said  I  to  husband, — 

" '  If  that  wee  bit  of  a  thing  can  sing, 
much  more  can  I ! '  and  I  struck  up  a 
hymn  of  praise  to  God,  to  which  a  certain 
bass  voice  made  an  excellent  accompani- 
ment. We  felt  better,  and  that's  the  last 
of  the  blues  wdth  us ;  though  of  course  we 
had  some  hard  rubs,  and  had  to  endure 
some  things  that  in  New  England  would 
have  made  us  cowards.  As,  for  instance, 
when  our  house  fell  down." 

"  Fell  down  !  how  did  it  happen  ?  " 
"  You  look  astonished.  I  don't  wonder 
at  it.  You  see,  when  we  came,  husband 
could  get  nothing  but  green  oak  boards 
to  build  a  temporary  shelter  with.  And 
what  with  the  shrinking,  and  the  wrench- 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  207 

ing  by  the  winds,  and  the  snapping  of  the 
nails  by  the  frost,  one  dark,  stormy  night, 
after  we  had  been  asleep  some  time,  we 
were  awakened  by  a  strange  noise.  Look- 
ing about,  how  were  we  astonished  to  find 
that  the  boards  had  fallen  apart,  leaving 
us  without  protection !  Hurriedly  putting 
on  our  clothes,  we  had  to  scamper  for  the 
cabin  I  have  spoken  of  for  shelter  till 
morning,  when  husband  went  to  work  and 
put  this  up,  which  has  served  us  thus 
far." 

Another  case  occurs  to  me. 

On  the  south  side  of  a  little  grove,  at 
the  very  outpost  of  immigration,  was 
Charles  Wallace's  log-house.  He  was  from 
a  thriving  manufacturing  town  in  Massa- 
chusetts. His  business  as  a  journeyman 
carriage-maker  had  enabled  him  to  pro- 
vide comfortably  for  his  young  family,  and 


208  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

pay  something  annually  toward  the  house 
in  which  they  dwelt.  It  was  true  lie  had 
to  work  steadily  and  hard,  and  made 
what  some  would  call  slow  progress  to- 
ward competency ;  still  the  house  was  eli- 
gible property,  neat,  commodious,  modern, 
and  the  little  garden  back  of  it  yielded  a 
bountiful  supply  of  vegetables  for  the  table. 
School,  also,  and  religious  privileges  were 
all  that  could  be  wished. 

Mr.  Wallace  was  a  thoughtful,  reading 
man,  of  real  worth  and  Christian  princi- 
ples, but  very  diffident.  Men  less  well- 
informed,  of  sounder  intellect,  blest  with 
self-esteem,  and  put-yourself-ahead-ativeness, 
would  cut  quite  a  figure  in  the  eyes  of  an 
admiring  public,  while  he,  modest  soul, 
was  passed  by  unnoticed,  unappreciated  by 
the  discriminating  crowd.  He  had,  how- 
ever, a  noble,  generous  heart,  and  glowing 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  209 

desires  to  be  of  use  as  a  disciple  of  Him 
who  went  about  doing  good.  Tliese  dispo- 
sitions and  aspirations,  however,  were  re- 
pressed by  his  confirmed  habits  of  self-dis^ 
trust,  and  he  was  therefore  often  dissatis- 
fied with  his  manner  of  life.  He  had 
read  much  of  the  spiritual  destitutions  of 
the  great  West,  and  came  to  think  that  if 
he  could  once  be  established  where  calls 
for  laborers  in  the  world's  harvest  were 
urgent,  and  laborers  were  few,  that  among 
new  faces  he  could  break  the  fetters  of 
self-distrust,  and  do  something  for  God  and 
humanity.  Moreover,  one  dull  business 
season  his  employer  failed,  owing  him 
quite  a  sum,  which  could  not  be  collected. 
Now  he  turned  his  face  towards  the  set- 
ting sun  in  good  earnest.  But  the  wife, 
how  could  he  bear  to  tear  her  away  from 
scenes  so  dear  to  her,  and  kindred  more 
14 


210  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

precious  than  life  itself!  He  well  knew 
the  struggle  it  would  cost  her  to  leave 
New  England,  with  its  prized  privileges, 
congenial  society,  and  domestic  comforts. 
She  was  one  of  those  dear,  loving  crea- 
tures that  love  on,  and  love  ever ;  the  very 
trees',  rocks,  and  rivers  of  her  childhood 
and  youth  would  cling  to  her  affections 
with  a  deep  grasp,  and  father,  mother, 
brothers,  sisters,  how  could  she  part  from 
them  for  the  distant  and  unknown  West! 
He  could  scarcely  hope  for  her  consent 
to  go,  but  had  it  cheerfully,  whole-heart- 
edly, yet  with  irrepressible  tears  and  many 
forebodings,  of  which  she  did  not  speak. 

Mr.  Wallace  had  a  clerical  relative  in 
Minnesota,  who  had  influenced  him  in  his 
decision  to  remove  there ;  and  that  his  fam- 
ily might  go  at  once  to  some  definite 
point,  or  home  of  their  own,  he  wrote  to 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  211 

the  clergyman,  commissioning  him  to  pur- 
chase for  him  a  farm.  He  did  so.  But 
on  Mr.  Wallace's  arrival,  it  fell  so  far  be- 
low his  expectations  that  he  sold  it  at  a 
sacrifice,  and  went  forth  prospecting,  locat- 
ing at  length  where  this  account  found 
them.  It  was  late  in  the  fall  ere  he  could 
begin  to  build  his  cabin ;  the  old  settlers' 
story  as  to  the  mildness  of  the  winters  in 
that  climate  relieved  his  anxiety,  however. 
The  winter,  nevertheless,  set  in  early,  and 
proved  to  be  one  of  the  coldest  on  record. 
He  was  overtaken  without  due  preparation 
as  to  provisions.  Nor  was  it  otherwise 
with  his  neighbors,  all  new  comers,  like 
himself.  The  rigors  of  the  prairie  made 
it  perilous  to  venture  from  home,  and  our 
emigrants,  fresh  from  the  abundance  of  the 
East,  were  brought  to  most  wretched  fare. 
Mr.    W.    was    physically   rugged,   knowing 


212  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

nothing  of  the  horrors  of  dyspepsia;  and 
if  there  was  only  a  sufficiency  for  the 
table,  it  mattered  not  to  him  what  it  was. 
Not  so,  unfortunately,  with  the  invalid 
wife.  There  was  little,  at  best,  that  she 
could  eat  that  suited  her  diseased  condi- 
tion, and  those  very  articles  it  was  impos- 
sible to  procure.  One  who  was,  providen- 
tially, an  inmate  of  the  household  through 
the  terrors  and  deprivations  of  that  winter, 


"I  had  read  of  the  rigors  of  the  frozen 
North,  and  here  I  had  a  taste  of  them. 
For  months,  in  the  most  sheltered  nooks, 
and  on  the  sunniest  roof-sides,  the  snow 
gave  no  signs  of  thawing,  while  from  morn 
till  night,  on  the  frosty  atmosphere,  lumi- 
nous pillars,  and  circles,  and  mock  suns 
witnessed  to  tlie  intensity  of  the  cold ;  and 
the    nights,  —  0,   such    nights !     why,    you 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  213 

could  hear  it  freezing,  freezing ;  tlie  swine 
in  their  pens  piled  and  crowded  together, 
quarreling  for  the  warmest  place,  uttering 
incessantly  cries  of  distress,  with  which 
mingled  the  sharp  reports,  like  the  dis- 
charge of  pistols,  of  the  oaken  shingles  on 
the  roof,  as  the  nails  that  secured  them 
burst.  I  don't  know  how  we  got  through 
that  winter.  Mrs.  W.  had  courage,  en- 
..durance,  was  free-hearted  to  a  fault,  but 
the  commonest  articles  had  to  be  dispensed 
with.  The  mills  were  so  remote  that  the 
corn  stored  in  the  attic  could  not  be  turned 
into  meal,  greatly  as  it  was  needed,  save 
by  the  slow  and  imperfect  process  of  grind- 
ing in  a  coffee-mill,  suspended  against  the 
wall.  Mr.  W.  was  anxious  and  low-spir- 
ited enough,  poor  fellow,  frequently  burst- 
ing out  into  bitter  reflections  on  himself 
for    bringing    his   wife    to    such    a    place. 


214  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

And,  indeed,  how  she  was  kept  alive  was 
a  miracle ;  certainly  she  ate  nothing,  or 
next  to  nothing.  Then,  however,  did  wo- 
man's marvelous  self-forgetfulness  and  for- 
titude shine  out.  Not  a  word  of  discon- 
tent or  of  depression  ever  escaped  her  lips. 
She  was  uniformly  peaceful  and  hopeful, 
at  least  in  the  presence  of  the  household, 
and  her  mild,  sweet  voice  was  often  em- 
ployed in  singing  some  hymn  of  holy  trust- 
and  cheer.  I  was  ever  admiring  her  spirit 
and  wondering  at  her  conduct.  Yet  that 
she  was  keenly  alive  to  the  situation  of 
affairs,  and  that  she  suffered  the  pangs  of 
unsatisfied  hunger,  —  not  having  diet  suited 
to  her  needs,  —  we  were  obliged  to  think. 
An  incident  impressed  me  deeply. 

"  Once,  after  retiring  to  rest,  I  awoke 
while  yet  it  was  dark,  and  overheard,  in 
the  apartment   adjoining   mine  a  low,  sup- 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  215 

pressed  whispering.  It  was  Mrs.  W.  wres- 
tling in  prayer  for  strength  according  to 
her  day.  She  had  taken  that  hour  to  seek 
'Him  who  giveth  power  to  the  faint,' 
that  none  but  God  might  hear.  Night 
after  night  did  she  thus  pour  out  her  soul 
in  agonized  supplication,  yet  on  her  face 
not  a  shade  of  anxiety  could  be  discerned 
through  the  day. 

"  Often  did  Mr.  Wallace,  during  the  trials 
of  that  winter,  and  afterwards,  resolve  to 
return  to  Massachusetts. 

" '  Not  yet,  Charles,'  she  would  say,  '  not 
yet,  till  you  have  made  enough  to  pay 
you  for  coming.' 

"And  repressing  her  own  earnest  yearn- 
ings for  the  faces  of  loved  ones  far  away, 
by  her  gentle  firmness  she  held  him  lo 
his  enterprise,  till  after  some  years,  a  good 
opportunity  occurring  to  sell   out  at  a  fair 


216  OxN    THE    FROxNTIER. 

advance,  for  his  own  sake  as  well  as  hers, 
he  embraced  it,  and  joyfully  they  retraced 
their  course  to  the  scenes  they  had  left 
behind. 

"  It  may  not  be  amiss  to  add,  at  the  risk 
of  a  digression,  that  Mr.  W.  was  enabled, 
while  dwelling  on  the  prairie,  to  carry  out 
his  plans  for  being  active  in  the  service  of 
Christ.  And  so  did  he  win  the  hearts  of 
others  by  his  consistent,  useful  life,  that 
when  he  was  about  to  leave  the  region, 
an  old  pioneer,  moved  by  powerful  emo- 
tions of  grief  at  parting  from  him,  sought 
him  out,  and,  throwing  his  brawny  arms 
about  the  good  man's  neck,  wept  aloud. 
The  ice  of  his  reserve  once  broken,  Mr.  W. 
has  since  taken  his  place  among  Christian 
men  at  the  East." 

In  the  older  settled  portions  of  our  coun- 
try, the  amenities  of  the  heart,  and   the 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  217 

gentle  fireside  graces  often  bloom  in  beauty. 
But  on  the  frontier,  the  stronger,  more  val- 
iant traits  are  developed.  Indeed,  if  it 
were  not  for  woman,  no  new  country  could 
be  civilized.  It  would  be  the  old  story 
of  Adam  and  the  beasts  over  again.  Ev- 
ery thing  would  end  in  Crusoe  experi- 
ments, in  hunting  and  trapping,  mining 
and  fishing.  Woman,  however,  has  more 
than  her  share  of  work  in  reclaiming 
earth's  wastes.  I  have  visited  many  hun- 
dred cabin  homes  on  the  frontier,  and  my 
conclusion  is,  that  to  the  wife  and  mother, 
more  than  to  any  other  influence,  belongs 
the  credit  of  whatever  of  advancement  is 
made  socially.  Encompassed  with  untold 
difficulties,  she  not  only  does  her  own 
work,  but  aids  and  encourages  her  hus- 
band in  his.  She  helps  build  the  cabin, 
"put  up  the  fence,"  drive  home  the  cows, 


218  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

take  care  of  the  crops,  "  fight  the  prairie 
fires,"  "tend"  the  store,  keep  the  tavern, 
and  take  charge  of  the  post-office. 

There  was  Mrs.  C,  whom  I  first  saw 
when  going  with  a  friend  for  family  sup- 
plies. How  I  started  back  on  entering 
*'the  store,"  supposing  I  had  blundered 
into  a  private  room.  A  bed,  neatly  cov- 
ered, stood  in  a  corner,  a  cofifee-mill  ready 
for  use  hung  against  the  wall.  These  first 
met  the  eye.  However,  the  sight  of  flour, 
and  other  articles  of  merchandise,  reas- 
sured me.  It  was  a  two-roomed  cabin, 
with  a  low  sleeping  apartment  overhead. 
Yet  in  that  little  building  a  brisk  trade 
was  carried  on,  a  number  of  boarders 
found  accommodation,  and  the  post-office 
was  kept;  and  Mrs.  C,  to  allow  her  hus- 
band leisure  to  put  other  "  irons  in  the 
fire,"   superintended    the    whole,  respected 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  219 

by  all  the  settlers  for  her  faultless  judg- 
ment, and  kind,  dignified  bearing. 

So  also  woman's  influence  is  felt  in  reli- 
gious matters. 

On  account  of  the  severity  of  the  win- 
ter, our  dwelling,  being  central,  was  for  a 
time  our  sanctuary.  One  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, the  mercury  being  thirty  below  zero, 
not  a  person  came  save  two  Christian  la- 
dies, who  had  walked  nearly  two  miles  to 
attend  meeting!  I  had  not  felt  inclined 
to  chide  our  brethren  for  their  absence,  so 
fierce  was  the  morning,  and  the  courageous 
zeal  of  those  devoted  women  filled  me  with 
admiration.  The  incident  was  character- 
istic. 

And  in  the  fearful  national  contest  now 
raging,  the  women  of  our  free  frontier  will 
not  be  found  wanting.  Their  hearts  took 
fire  when  Kansas   was   invaded   by  border 


220  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

ruffians.  Not  a  few  Southern  ladies, 
brought  up  in  luxury,  have  I  met  with 
in  cabin  homes,  self-exiled  from  the  places 
of  their  birth,  by  their  abhorrence  of  Amer- 
ican slavery.  Prairie  women,  self-reliant, 
free  in  spirit  as  the  air  they  breathe,  have 
no  affinity  with  tyrant  traitors.  And  were 
it  possible  that  through  the  sorcery  of 
party  politics,  or  some  other  fell  influence, 
the  fathers  and  brothers  of  the  Northwest 
should  falter  in  this  struggle,  the  loyal 
mothers  and  sisters  could  not.  Inspired 
by  heroism,  nursed  by  danger  and  depri- 
vation, they  would  court  any  suffi3ring  or 
peril  rather  than  see  the  fair  structure  of 
our  civilization  and  freedom  overthrown  by 
the  barbarized  champions  of  human  bond- 
age. 


ON  THE  FRONTIER.  221 


THE    MIDNIGHT    CALL. 

The  winter  of  18 —  was  marked  with 
unusual  severity.  I  remember  it  the  more 
vividly  because  of  the  incident  which  fol- 
lows. 

One  night  I  sat  by  the  fire,  absorbed  in 
reading.  It  was  just  the  evening  to  enjoy 
a  good  book  and  home  comforts,  for  the 
storm,  which  had  been  raging  through  the 
day,  and  still  whirling  the  snow  against 
the  windows,  repressed  all  desire  to  go 
abroad,  and  shut  out  intruders.  I  read 
on,  till,  through  the  roar  of  the  tempest, 
I  heard  the  muffled  tones  of  a  neighbor- 
ing church  clock  strike  eleven.  Another 
hour  had  nearly  passed  when  I  was  aroused 


222  ON    THE    FPtONTIER. 

bj  a  knock  at  the  door,  and,  opening  it,  a 
woman,  clad  in  a  thin  shawl  covered  with 
snow,  came  timidly  in.  Her  eyes  were 
swollen  with  weeping,  and  her  whole  ap- 
pearance expressed  deep  sorrow. 

Standing,  and  wringing  her  hands  in  her 
anguish,  she  said, — 

"  My  father  is  dying !  He  is  in  great 
distress  of  body  and  mind.  I've  called  to 
ask  if  you  won't  please  come  and  see  him, 
for  there's  no  one  to  speak  a  word  to  him 
about  his  soul,  and  I  fear  he  can't  live  till 
morning." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  I  am  not  a  minister, 
and  am  afraid  I  could  be  of  little  service. 
Has  your  father  no  experienced  Christian 
friend  who  would  like  to  converse  with 
him  ?     What  church  does  he  attend  ?  " 

"  We  do  not  go  any  where  to  meeting," 
she  replied,  with  an  embarrassed  air ;  "  but 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  223 

father  had  been  talking  about  it  some 
time ! " 

"Hadn't  you  better  go  for  a  clergyman, 
then?    There's  Rev.  Mr.  E." 

"I've  been  for  him,"  she  quickly  re- 
turned, .  "  but  he  was  not  at  home,  and 
then  I  inquired  for  some  one  who  could 
pray,  and  a  man  sent  me  to  you.  Do 
please  go,  sir,  for  father  is  very  anxious 
that  I  get  some  one,  and  I  can't  leave  him 
long,  he  suffers  so,  and  he  '11  feel  dread- 
fully if  nobody  comes  to  see  him." 

There  was  a  coincidence  in  this  unex- 
pected call  that  impressed  me.  I  had  been 
much  exercised  with  the  desire  to  be  more 
actively  useful  as  a  Christian,  and  had  felt 
moved  to  pray  that  larger  opportunities 
for  doing  good  might  be  given.  Was  this 
an  answer  to  that  prayer  ?  But  it  did  not 
come   in   the   way   I   had   anticipated,   and 


224  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

numbei'less  excuses  were  ready  to  present 
themselves,  the  most  weighty  of  which 
was  my  extreme  youth,  and  consequent 
inexperience ;  and  (shall  I  confess  it  ?)  I 
even  glanced,  with  selfish  shrinking,  out 
at  the  driving  blast.  But  the  case  would 
admit  of  no  parleying.  With  pale,  implor- 
ing face,  my  caller  stood  waiting  my  decis- 
ion.    Strength  came,  and  I  said, — 

"I  will  go,  and  do  the  best  I  can  for 
your  father;"  and,  thanking  me,  she  hur- 
ried away. 

In  a  distant  and  disreputable  part  of  the 
city,  alone,  on  a  dreary  declivity  overlook- 
ing the  sea,  stood  the  dwelling  of  the  sick 
man.  Entering,  I  had  stepped  to  the  feeble 
fire  that  flickered  in  the  grate,  to  warm  me 
ere  speaking  to  him,  when,  casting  my  eyes 
toward  the  bed,  they  met  his.  Such  an 
expression  of  wild  despair  I  had  never  be- 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  225 

fore  seen.  In  the  thrilling  tones  of  one 
consciously  approaching  eternity  unpre- 
pared, he  exclaimed,  stretching  out  his 
hand, — 

"  /  luant  some  one  to  point  me  the 
way  I " 

Instantly  all  diffidence  fled ;  and,  grasp- 
ing his  hand,  I  began  to  question  him 
about  his  past  life  and  present  feelings. 
Suspicious  of  "death-bed  repentance,"  I 
dealt  plainly  with  him,  which  was  well 
received.  The  result  was  a  conviction  that 
his  was  a  case  of  genuine  sorrow  for  sin. 
He  had  been  a  man  of  great  physical 
strength  and  endurance.  His  business  had 
called  him  to  stand  much  in  the  water,  as 
he  worked  about  the  vessels  in  the  harbor, 
experiencing  no  ill  effects  from  his  exposed 
life  till  within  a  short  time,  when  his  lower 
limbs  commenced  swelling,  accompanied  by 
15 


226  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

excruciating  pain,  the  torture  increasing  as 
the  disease  crept  up  toward  the  vitals. 
Xow  his  siififerings  were  well  nigh  intoler- 
able, and  his  swollen  appearance  made  him 
a  truly  frightful  object.  His  naturally  fine 
mind  remained  unclouded,  however,  and 
its  whole  vigor  was  exercised  in  self-accus- 
ing reviews  of  the  past,  and  hopeless  autici- 
pations  of  the  future. 

^'Oh,"  said  he,  "it's  not  the  fear  of 
death  that  troubles  me  so  much  as  thoughts 
of  my  wasted,  godless  life.  I  have  lived 
as  if  there  was  no  God.  What  a  stupid, 
ungrateful  wretch  I  have  been !  And  he 
has  been  so  good,  so  forbearing,  so  patient. 
For  fifty  years  and  more  I  never  saw  a 
sick  day,  and  yet  no  love  toward  him  who 
made  and  preserved  me !  Oh,  how  can 
I  think  of  it  I  "  —  and  he  covered  his  face 
as  if  to  hide  some  hideous  vision. 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  227 

"  Bat,"  I  asked,  "  did  you  have  no  con- 
cern about  these  things  till  you  were 
taken  sick  ? " 

"  Yes ;  one  day,  a  few  weeks  before,  I 
fell  to  thinking  over  my  past  life,  —  I  know 
not  what  made  me,  —  and  I  saw  it  to  be 
all  wrong.  Then  I  resolved  to  do  better. 
But  what  a  task  I  found  it  to  overcome 
evil  habits  formed  through  so  many  years ; 
and  then  my  sins,  my  sins,  they  were  a 
load  crushing  me  to  despair.  One  thing, 
however,  I  determined  on,  and  that  was  to 
attend  preaching  somewhere.  But,  delay- 
ing to  get  suitable  clothing,  I  was  mean- 
while laid  up  with  this  sickness.  And 
now,"  he  continued,  "  what  I  wish  more 
than  any  thing  else  is  to  be  rid  of  sin  and 
serve  God.  But  how  can  this  be?  How 
can  I  hope  he  will  have  mercy  on  me, 
when    all    the    strength    of   my   days    has 


228  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

been  given  to  self  and  sin  ?  What  shall 
I  do?  what  shall  I  do?  It's  all  dark 
to  me." 

Assuring  him  that  salvation  was  free 
and  ample,  that  the  blessed  Saviour  in- 
vited all  who  felt  their  need  of  it  to  par- 
take without  money  and  without  price,  he 
could  not  credit  the  good  news,  and  ex- 
claimed, with  mo\dng  earnestness, — 

"  Read  it  to  me  from  ihe  Book.  I  want 
to  hear  it  for  myself,  that  I  may  know 
there  is  no  mistake  about  it ! " 

Drawing  a  Bible  from  my  pocket,  and 
lifting  up  a  prayer  for  guidance,  for  I 
knew  not  where  to  turn,  I  opened  at  this 
passage :  "  Jesus  stood  and  cried,  saying, 
If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me 
and  drink."  A  divine  radiance  seemed  to 
rest  on  the  Lord's  invitation,  and  as  I  was 
explaining  it,  he  suddenly  exclaimed, — 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  229 

"  /  see  it  / "  He  had  fallen  back  on 
the  pillow,  a  smile  surpassingly  beautiful 
irradiating  his  before  distorted  features. 
Those  wondrous  words  of  Christ,  in  which 
divine  majesty  blends  with  perfect  human 
sympathy,  through  the  Spirit's  power,  had 
inspired  trust.  The  cloud,  the  darkness, 
the  storm  passed  from  his  soul,  and,  like 
a  tired  infant  nestling  in  his  mother's 
arms,  so  he  found  rest  in  the  love  of  his 
Saviour. 

How  blessed  to  kneel  in  prayer  after 
such  a  change !  Prayer  was  turned  to 
praise,  and  that  lowly  cot  became  as  the 
gate  of  heaven.  Nor  did  his  peace  abate, 
for  when  I  called  again,  three  days  after- 
wards, and  inquired  how  he  felt,  — 

"  Oh  !  "  said  he,  with  beaming  face,  "  it's 
so  delightful;  it  is  peace  in  the  morning-, 
and   peace   at  night.     My   mind  is   so   at 


230  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

rest,"  he  continued,  "  that  even  my  bodily 
pains,  at  times,  seem  all  to  have  left  me." 
•  But  how  can  I  express  the  gladness 
that  filled  my  heart  that  night,  as  I  left 
the  aged  convert  to  return  home !  The 
howling  tempest  could  not  drown  the  mel- 
ody that  came  down  from  angel-harps,  to 
the  ear  of  faith,  as  in  the  presence  of  God 
there  was  joy  over  another  repentant  sin- 
ner. Christian  disciple,  pray  to  be  a  true 
laborer  for  Christ.  Watch  to  improve  each 
opportunity  the  Lord  shall  give  for  §,ctiv- 
ity  in  his  vineyard.  Charlotte  Elizabeth 
writes,  "  I  asked  work  of  my  heavenly  Mas- 
ter, and  he  gave  it."  Xone  shall  ask  it 
of  him  in  vain.  Fear  not  to  follow  liis 
leadings.  The  impenitent  are  more  ready 
to  hear  on  the  subject  of  their  eternal  in- 
terests than  is  generally  supposed.  "  I 
have,"    says    Newcomb,    "  conversed    with 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  231 

many  hundreds,  in  almost  every  variety  of 
states  of  mind,  not  excepting  avowed  infi- 
dels, but  have  rarely  met  with  one  who 
did  not  receive  it  kindly,  and  treat  me 
with  courtesy.'*  Since  the  incident  related 
above,  which  occurred  in  my  eighteenth 
year,  personal  religious  conversation  with 
some  thousands  enables  me  to  bear  a  simi- 
lar testimony. 


232  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 


THE    WORLD-WANDERER. 

I  WAS  visiting  in  tlie  quiet  city  of  N . 

On  the  street  a  clerical  friend  met  me,  and 
said,  — 

"  I  want  you  to  come  to  our  conference 
meeting  this  evening,  and  hear  one  of  my 
members  talk.     It  will  do  you  good." 

Now  I  confess  to  a  partiality  for  those 
social  services,  in  which  young  and  old, 
the  lettered  and  unlettered,  all  turn  preach- 
ers, and  in  the  freedom  of  God's  fam- 
ily circle  make  heart-offerings  of  prayer, 
and  praise,  and  exhortation.  Would  that 
we  had  less  pulpit  and  more  church 
in  our  sanctuaries ;  at  least,  I  should  pre- 
fer it. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  233 

The  good  pastor's  flock  were  accustomed 
to  prayer-meeting  privileges,  and  no  time 
was  lost. 

"  That's  the  man,"  whispered  my  friend  ; 
"listen." 

At  that  instant  a  man  arose  in  a  side 
pew,  and  commenced  speaking.  Partly 
bald,  his  thin,  light  hair  fell  from  a  high 
forehead,  while  his  sharply  cut  features, 
bronzed  by  exposure  to  sun  and  storm, 
wore  a  bold,  stern  look,  as  of  one  accus- 
tomed to  face  danger  without  shrinking. 
His  voice  was  resonant  and  full,  his  manner 
assured  and  forcible.  A  tender  smile,  like 
sunlight  resting  on  the  jagged  rock,  played 
over  his  face,  —  a  face  accustomed  more  to 
harsher  moods,  one  would  think. 

His  words  —  I  will  not  attempt  to  re- 
hearse them  —  were  wondrously  weighty 
and  convincing,  as,  with  a  confidence  such 


234  ON    THE   FRONTIER. 

as  the  Apostles  had  after  the  baptism  of 
Pentecost,  he  reasoned  out  of  the  Scrip- 
tures of  "  righteousness,  temperance,  and 
judgment  to  come."  He  spoke  like  one 
who  had  consciously  emerged  from  dark- 
ness to  light;  who  had  been  soundly  con- 
verted from  the  extremity  of  ungodliness 
to  a  living  discipleship.  And  when  he 
alluded  to  his  own  experience,  how  touch- 
ing and  persuasive ! 

"  Sinner !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  you  who 
make  light  of  these  things,  pleased  with 
the  triJfles  of  earth,  hugging  sin,  your  dead- 
liest foe,  to  your  hearts,  rejecting  the  only 
good,  eagerly  pressing  on  the  broad  road 
to  destruction,  look  at  me,  a  monument  of 
God's  sparing  mercy,  a  trophy  of  his  grace ! 
Some  of  you  have  known  me  from  my 
childhood.  You  can  remember  what  a 
vile,    God-defying,   blasphemous    wretch    I 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  235 

was.  You  have  heard  me  insult  the  Maj- 
esty of  heaven  and  earth;  yes,  pour  out 
my  swearing  wrath  on  Him  who  died  for 
me.  It  is  but  a  year  since  he  spoke  to 
me  as  to  Saul  of  Tarsus,  and  brought  me 
to  his  feet.  Since  then  my  testimony  has 
been  one  and  the  same.  I  am  a  new  crea- 
ture ;  old  things  have  passed  away.  I  have 
found  him  of  whom  Moses  and  the  proph- 
ets did  write ;  and  in  finding  him  I  have 
found  every  thing.  Sin's  strong  fetters 
have  been  broken ;  pardon,  peace,  joy, 
love,  the  fellowship  of  the  saints,  the  com- 
munion of  the  Holy  Ghost,  heaven,  all  are 
mine,  and  can  you  stay  away  ? "  Then, 
plaintively,  almost  soliloquizing,  "  Fifty 
years  of  my  life  were  wasted  in  sin,  be- 
fore I  saw  the  great  light.  I  have  been 
all  over  the  world,  seen  hardships  and 
danger  in  many  a  clime,  all  the  while  defy 


236  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

ing  the  God  who  made  and  preserved  me. 
Yes,  I  have  been  to  Palestine,  trodden  that 
sacred  soil  with  a  heart  harder  than  ada- 
mant, gone  over  those  places  hallowed  by 
tlie  weary  feet,  watered  by  the  tears 
and  blood  of  Immanuel,  —  but  what  was 
it  all  to  me  ?  Oh,  that  I  could  once  more 
see  that  land,  all-glorious  !  Oh,  that  I  might 
again  look  on  Jordan  and  Tiberias,  Geth- 
semane  and  Calvary,  now  that  he  has  had 
pity  on  a  wretch  like  me,  and  revealed 
himself  to  my  soul.  How  dear,  how  holy, 
would  be  those  scenes!  —  what  joy,  what 
rapture  would  thrill  my  heart !  But  this 
can  not  be.  But,  blessed  be  God,  the  heav- 
enly Canaan 

'  Stands  dressed  in  living  green.' 

I  shall  see  that.  I  shall  behold  Him  whom 
I  once  reviled,  but  who  is  now  to  my  soul 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  237 

the  cliiefest  among  ten  thousand,  and  the 
One  altogether  lovely.  Sinner,  will  you  go 
with  me  ?  Come,  for  there  is  room  for 
all ! " 

"  What,"  said  the  preacher,  as  we  walked 
home  together,  "  did  you  think  of  that  ? " 
referring  to  the  exhortation  I  have  mea- 
gerly  sketched. 

"Ah !  "  I  replied,  with  a  sigh,  "  if  we  all 
could  speak  with  that  assurance  of  faith 
and  depth  of  conviction." 

"And  yet,"  he  continued,  "that  man 
was  one  of  the  worst,  most  hopeless  scoff- 
ers I  ever  heard  of.  The  language  he 
would  use  in  expressing  his  scorn  and 
hatred  of  the  Saviour  is  too  horrible  to  re- 
peat. But  since  his  conversion  not  an  op- 
poser  dares  breathe  an  accusation  against 
his  demeanor.  Having  been  forgiven  much, 
he  loves  much." 


238  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

"  What  were  the  circumstances  connected 
with  his  conversion?" 

"A  member  of  my  church  and  Sabbath 
school,"  said  he,  "  was  in  search  of  schol- 
ars. She  was  looking  for  them  among  the 
poor  and  neglected.  She  had  heard  of  this 
man  —  was  aware  that  he  was  a  skeptic 
of  the  blackest  hue ;  but  knowing  that  he 
had  children  growing  up  untaught  in  di- 
vine things,  her  heart  was  moved  with  pity ; 
and,  repressing  her  timidity,  she  begged 
leave  for  them  to  attend  Sunday  school. 
Her  conciliatory,  persevering  efforts,  were 
rewarded  by  her  request  being  granted. 
The  youngest  of  them,  a  little  girl  of  five, 
became  religiously  impressed,  and  began 
the  habit  of  secret  prayer.  One  evening, 
just  at  dark,  her  father  chancing  to  pass 
the  door  of  her  room,  thought  he  heard  a 
voice.      It    was    little    Mary    offering    her 


ON    THE   FRONTIER.  239 

childish  petitions.  Just  then  she  was  ask- 
ing God  to  bless  and  save  her  dear  father. 
The  listening  parent  heard  his  name  thus 
laid  before  the  mercy-seat.  Conviction  fol- 
lowed. '  What  does  this  mean  ? '  he  ejacu- 
lated. '  My  little  girl  praying  for  me ! 
Am  I,  then,  such  a  sinner  ? '  His  life 
came  up  for  review ;  he  was  plunged 
in  wretchedness,  could  not  sleep,  and 
next  morning  sent  for  me.  He  was  walk- 
ing the  room,  gloomy  and  agitated,  as  I 
entered. 

" '  Sir,'  said  he,  '  can  you  prove  that  the 
Bible  is  true  ? ' 

"  *  Yes,  to  one  who  is  candid,'  I  an- 
swered. 

"  '  Then  let  me  hear  your  arguments,'  he 
rejoined. 

"I  spent  the  day  with  him.  Ere  I  left, 
at  his   request  I   prayed  for  him,  and   he 


240  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

broke  out  in  earnest  supplication  for  him- 
self. When  light  dawned,  his  mind  was 
flooded.  No  doubts  have  distressed  him 
since.  His  testimonies  always  have  power 
with  unbelievers ;  they  don't  question  the 
change.  But  did  you  observe,"  he  added, 
"  how  he  yearned  to  see  the  Holy  Land 
once  more  ?  He  often  reverts  to  that,  re- 
proaching himself  for  his  indifference  and 
unbelief  when  there." 

The  converted  infidel  died  about  a  year 
after.  His  last  moments  were  glorious. 
Denied  another  sight  of  the  earthly  Canaan, 
the  heavenly  soon  burst  upon  his  enrap- 
tured vision. 

Oh,  ye  laborers  in  the  Sabbath  schools  of 
our  land,  go  forth  I  Go  forth  into  the 
highways  and  hedges,  into  the  homes  of 
error,  the  dens  of  corruption,  and  bear 
thence  the  tender  child  where  hallowed  in- 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  241 

fluences  descend,  and  the  knowledge  that 
inaketh  wise  unto  salvation  is  imparted. 
Save  the  children,  and  it  may  be  you  will 
save  the  fathers  and  the  mothers,  who, 
transformed,  shall  become  champions  of 
the  cross. 

16 


242  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 


THE    PASTOR'S    DREAM. 

Deacon   G.    was    a    pillar   in  the  

church  some  years  since.  He  was  the  very 
embodiment  of  good  deaconly  qualities : 
—  bland,  zealous,  prayerful,  efficient.  His 
hospitable  doors  were  ever  open  to  the 
"pilgrim  and  stranger,"  and  many  a  weary 
man  of  God,  and  many  a  hungry  wan- 
derer, was  sheltered  and  fed  beneath  his 
roof.  And  not  seldom  did  some  struggling 
theological  student,  visiting  him  of  a  vaca- 
tion, have  his  fundless  wallet  replenished, 
and  his  outer  man  improved  by  the  ex- 
change of  his  worn  boots  and  threadbare 
coat  for  a  more  comely  and  comfortable 
garb.    It  was  whispered   around,  however, 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  243 

that  with  all  his  virtues,  he  had  one  weak- 
ness. He  was  pronounced  prodigal  in  his 
alms-deeds,  by  some  of  the  more  "pru- 
dent," and  the  pastor  inclined  to  the  opin- 
ion. He  admired  the  whole-hearted  benev- 
olence of  the  deacon,  but  being  himself 
more  wary,  and  having  his  friend's  interests 
really  at  heart,  he  became  much  troubled 
about  the  matter.  For  some  time  he  re- 
volved the  subject  in  silence,  until  com- 
pelled, as  he  thought,  by  a  sense  of  duty, 
he  waited  on  his  official  helper  to  express 
his  concern.  He  laid  before  him  all  his 
fears,  endeavoring,  with  a  discriminating 
hand,  to  draw  the  line  between  a  safe  and 
an  imprudent  generosity. 

"  Have  I  not  enough  for  the  support  of 
my  family?  Do  I  at  all  distress  them  by 
giving  away  ?  "  asked  the  deacon.  "  This 
may  be   true,"    said    the    minister,    "  but 


244  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

many  of  your  brethren  fear  for  the  future 
for  you.  You  know  not  what  reverses  may 
await  you.  Is  it  not  wise ;  do  you  not  owe 
it  to  your  family  so  to  husband  your  resour- 
ces as  to  be  prepared  for  emergencies  that 
may  arise  ? " 

His  listener  duly  weighed  each  word, 
but  was  scarcely  convinced  of  the  neces- 
sity of  the  caution.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
ne  had  only  given  of  his  abundance,  and 
that  a  watchful  Providence  had  granted 
him  to  reap  liberally  as  he  sowed  liber- 
ally. 

The  pastor  left ;  his  solicitude  somewhat 
softened,  perhaps,  by  the  interview;  yet 
with  the  consciousness  that  he  had  relieved 
himself  of  any  responsibility  in  whatever 
might  befall  the  deacon's  worldly  affairs, 
while  the  latter  remained  with  his  large 
heart  uncontracted. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  245 

That  night  the  pastor  dreamed  that,  tak- 
ing his  daily  walk,  he  bent  his  steps  to  the 
sea-side.  It  was  a  bright  day  in  summer, 
and  he  paused  to  look  on  the  broad  ex- 
panse. Soft  clouds  lay  dreamily  against 
the  horizon.  Sea-birds  sailed  slowly 
through  the  air,  or  darted  down  upon 
their  finny  prey.  The  white-crested  waves 
flashed  back  golden  rays.  While  absorbed 
in  the  glorious  scene,  a  step  behind  caused 
him  to  turn  his  head,  and  he  saw  Deacon  G. 
approaching.  The  latter  appeared  not  to 
notice  him,  but  stepping  to  the  verge  of 
the  shore,  took  from  a  basket  on  his  arm 
loaf  after  loaf  of  wholesome  looking  bread, 
and  tossed  them  into  the  water. 

"  Stop !  stop !  "  exclaimed  the  pastor,  in 
surprise,   "  why  this  waste  ?  " 

The  deacon  pointed  solemnly  into  the 
sea,  and  said,  "  Look !  observe !  " 


246  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

The  former  looked,  and,  to  his  astonish- 
ment, saw  that  for  each  loaf  thrown  in, 
the  returning  wave  brought  back  a  basket- 
ful, and  cast  them,  at  the  donor's  feet! 

In  great  wonder  he  awoke,  and  the  next 
day  calling  on  the  deacon,  related  his 
dream,  and  added,  tearfully, — 

"  Go  on,  brother !  go  on  !  Cast  your 
bread  upon  the  waters  —  doubtless,  after 
many  days,  it  will  be  returned  to  you!" 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  247 


A    SMILE,    A    GLANCE,    A    HYMN. 

A  THOUGHTLESS  boj  of  fifteen,  who  had 
heard  the  Bible  and  the  Christian  profes- 
sion treated  lightly,  imbibed  the  poison  of 
skepticism.  He  had  come  to  think  that 
religion  was  only  a  name,  and  that  the 
followers  of  Christ  were  a  gloomy  people, 
denying  themselves  this  world's  enjoyments 
and  receiving  no  equivalent.  It  chanced 
one  day  that  he  was  sent  on  an  errand  to 
a  lady,  of  whom  his  parents  would  often 
speak  compassionately,  as  one  who  had 
but  a  little  while  to  live. 

"  Poor  Mrs.  S.,"  they  were  wont  to  ex- 
claim, "  how  dreadful  must  it  be  to  lier  to 
know   that   she    must    leave  her   beautiful 


248  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

home,  her  babe  and  husband.  But,"  they 
would  add,  ''she  is  a  church-member, — 
wonder  of  she  is  sustained  in  her  great 
trouble." 

The  son  called  on  Mrs.  S.  With  pleased 
emotions,  for  he  was  a  lad  of  fine  taste, 
he  looked  at  the  dwelling  and  out-grounds. 
Wealth  had  here  lavished  its  stores  in 
adorning  and  furnishing  a  home  where,  it 
would  seem,  scarcely  a  wish  was  ungrati- 
fied.  The  garden  was  a  paradise  of  rare 
plants  and  flowers.  Within,  the  foot 
pressed  the  richest  carpets,  luxurious  chairs 
and  lounges  invited  repose,  while  the  ele- 
gant library  contained  the  choicest  produc- 
tions in  literature.  A  fair  babe,  the  pic- 
ture of  health,  lay  sleeping  in  its  pretty 
cot.  He  glanced  at  the  costly  house  and 
dimpled  child,  and  then  at  the  sick  wo- 
man, and  thought  how  terrible  a   thing   it 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  249 

is  to  die  amid  such  scenes.  He  expected 
that  the  countenance  of  the  death-doomed 
wife  and  mother  would  reflect  his  feelings. 
But  no.  That  saintly  expression,  such  as 
beautifies  those  only  who  have  been  purified 
by  suffering,  and  "  look  not  at  the  things 
that  are  seen  and  temporal,  but  at  the  things 
that  are  unseen  and  eternal,"  lighted  up 
her  face.  An  ever-present  smile,  sweet  and 
heavenly  beyond  any  thing  he  had  ever 
seen,  spoke  of  her  deep,  spiritual  joy.  It 
overwhelmed  him  with  surprise.  "  This, 
this,"  said  an  inward  voice,  "  is  what  Chris- 
tianity does  for  Death's  victims ! "  There 
is,  there  must  be,  he  felt,  reality  in  that 
which  can  give  happiness  under  circum 
stances  so  forbidding.  That  smile  followed 
him,  an  unanswerable  witness  for  Jesus, 
till  he  was  led  to  seek  the  dying  Chris- 
tian's Saviour.  "A'smile  —  a  simple  smile 
convinced  me,"  he  would  afterwards  say. 


250  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

In  a  rural  town  in  Maine  lived  a  Mr. 
B.,  an  openly  irreligious  man.  His  cus- 
tom was,  when  his  neighbors  were  at 
public  worship  on  the  Lord's  day,  to  take 
his  fishing-rod  or  gun,  and  stroll  about  the 
fields  and  woods  in  search  of  amusement. 
One  hot  summer  day,  starting  on  his  accus- 
tomed ramble,  his  course  led  him  by  the 
village  church.  The  pastor,  a  devoted, 
godly  minister,  now  in  glory,  had  just 
risen  to  name  his  text.  The  Sabbath- 
breaker  passed  on  ere  it  was  announced. 
But  the  door  of  the  sanctuary  being  open 
on  account  of  the  heat,  his  glance  within 
met  that  of  the  man  of  God.  Those  calm, 
unworldly  eyes,  with  their  "  holy  expres- 
sion," as  the  transgressor  subsequently 
stated,  shot  conviction  to  his  heart,  and 
he  found  no  peace  till  he  found  it  beneath 
the  sin-atoning  cross. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  251 

A  faithful  pastor,*  who  made  much  of 
"the  lambs,"  was  in  the  habit  of  taking 
a  little  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  parishioner, 
on  his  knee  when  he  called,  and  teaching 
her  a  hymn  to  sing.  He  taught  her  those 
lines  from  Watts,  commencing, 

'•Earth  has  engrossed  my  love  too  long." 

She  had  a  clear,  rich  voice,  and  when 
the  family  would  sing  those  words  her  bird- 
like notes  might  be  heard  above  all  the 
rest.  One  day  she  came  in  from  play,  hot 
and  fevered  —  scarlet  fever  had  seized  her, 
and  she  soon  faded  from  earth,  to  be  folded 
in  the  arms  of  the  "  chief  Shepherd." 
Many  years  passed.  With  her  death  the 
stanzas  ceased  to  be  sung  and  were  sel- 
dom thought  of.  An  older  brother,  who 
had  grown  to  manhood,  read  infidel  books, 

*  Rev.  J.  Newton  Brown. 


262  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

forsook  the  house  of  God,  and  became  a 
caviller  at  religion.  His  business  called 
him  to  a  distant  town,  and  having  a  taste 
for  music,  he  became  a  member  of  a  choir, 
still  unchanged  in  his  feelings  towards 
Christianity.  One  Sabbath  the  officiating 
clergyman  gave  out  the  hymn  already  re- 
ferred to.  While  engaged  in  singing  it, 
suddenly  he  seemed  to  hear  that  child- 
voice  ringing  out,  in  cadences  of  angelic 
sweetness,  her  favorite  lines, — 

"  Earth  has  engrossed  my  love  too  long ; 
'Tis  time  I  lift  mine  eyes 
Upward,  dear  Father,  to  thy  throne, 
And  to  my  native  skies." 

Each  word  uttered  with  thrilling  dis- 
tinctness to  his  ear,  he  was  lifted  above 
his  skepticism,  heaven  became  a  reality, 
the  gospel  a  divine  power.  Overcome  by 
emotion,  he  sat  down   before  the  song  had 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  253 

ended, — melted,  subdued,  humbled,  tearful. 
After  his  conversion  he  would  often  allude 
to  that  hour  as  one  of  deep  and  vivid  im- 
pression. Little  did  that  loving  pastor 
think  what  he  was  doing  for  that  brother 
when  the  fair-haired  girl  sat  in  his  lap  com- 
mitting those  verses. 


254  ON   THE   FRONTIEB. 


A    LOST    OPPORTUNITY. 

I  HAD  been  invited  to  preach  for  a  few 
Sabbaths  in  a  pleasant  village  on  the  sea- 
board. During  services,  on  my  first  Sun- 
day's labors,  my  attention  was  attracted  to 
a  tall,  rough-looking  man,  of  pale  counte- 
nance, on  my  right.  Each  time  I  glanced 
in  his  direction  I  saw  that  his  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  me,  as  if  he  were  intent  to 
hear,  and  yet  with  an  expression  that  be- 
tokened any  thing  but  sympathy  with  the 
truths  of  the  gospel.  There  was  nothing 
in  his  personal  appearance  that  would  lead 
one  to  single  him  from  the  throng  of  stran- 
gers in  the  sanctuary,  yet  anxiety  for  his 
spiritual  good  arose  in  my  heart,  and  dur- 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  255 

ing  the  succeeding  week  I  experienced  a 
solicitude  in  his  behalf  that  could  only  ex- 
press itself  in  prayer.  Next  Sabbath,  on 
my  return,  the  stranger  occupied  the  same 
seat,  and  while  preaching  I  often  felt  for 
him  an  interest  so  peculiar  that  I  resolved 
to  seek  an  interview  for  religious  conversa- 
tion. Lingerhig  to  speak  with  Christian 
friends,  he  had  retired  from  the  congrega- 
tion before  I  had  put  my  resolution  in 
practice. 

"  Who  is  the  tall  man  that  sat  in  the 
third  slip  on  my  right  ?^'  I  asked  of  a 
lady  resident  of  the  place. 

"Oh,"  she  replied,  "that's  Mr.  L.,  a 
poor,  wretched  infidel,  who  don't  believe 
in  the  Bible,  nor  even  that  there  is  a  God. 
A  fearfully  violent  and  blasphemous  oppo- 
ser  of  religion,  I  can't  imagine  how  he 
happened   to   come   to   church   to-day;    he 


256  ON    THE   FRONTIER. 

lias  not  been  within  a  Ciiristiau  sanctuary 
for  years." 

"It  is  singular,  but  without  any  knowl- 
edge of  his  condition,  I  have  felt  an  ear- 
nest desire  to  speak  to  him  on  the  subject 
of  his  soul's  salvation.  How  do  you  think 
he  would  receive  it  ?  " 

"  He  would  swear  at  you  terribly,  I  fear. 
Why,  that  man  will  stand  up,  and  dare 
God  to  strike  him  dead ! " 

"Is  it  possible?" 

"  Yes,  and  what  makes  his  case  worse 
is,  he  has  a  bad  cough  that  may  end  in 
consumption.  When  a  coughing-fit  comes 
on  it  puts  him  in  a  rage,  that  vents  itself 
in  the  most  shocking  oaths." 

What  I  heard  respecting  the  man  of  it- 
self would  not  have  disheartened  me.  But 
there  was  such  a  thing,  I  remembered,  as 
casting  "  pearls  before  swine,"  and  impres- 


ON   THE  FRONTIER.  257 

sions  were  so  trustless.  Therefore,  I  de- 
ferred calling  upon  him,  as  I  had  designed, 
that  week ;  however,  I  was  unhappy  from 
a  conviction  of  neglected  duty  that  no  rea- 
soning could  remove.  Wherever  I  went, 
however  occupied,  his  pale  face  would  haunt 
me,  and  mentioning  the  case  to  a  Christian 
acquaintance,  united  prayer  was  frequently 
offered  for  his  conversion.  I  had  deter- 
mined to  speak  with  him  the  next  Sabbath 
without  fail.  But  he  was  not  in  his  place. 
My  engagements  were  such  that  I  could  not 
conveniently  visit  him  at  his  home.  Another 
week  rolled  by,  and  he  was  still  missing. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  L.  ?  "  I  inquired,  of  the 
friend  before  alluded  to ;  "I  must  see  him. 
I  believe  the  Holy  Spirit  is  impressing  his 
case  upon  my  soul,  and  I  shall  not  find 
peace  till  I  have  one  faithful  talk  with 
him,  whether  he  repulses  me  or  not." 
17 


258  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

"Ah,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "you  are  too 
late!" 

"Too  late!  What  do  you  mean?"  I 
asked,  tremblingly. 

"  He  is  dead  !  " 

"  Dead  ? " 

"  Yes,  his  end  was  dreadful.  A  week 
ago  last  Thursday  night  he  was  sitting, 
conversing  with  his  wife,  when,  she  says, 
something  internal  seemed  to  break,  sound- 
ing like  the  running  down  of  a  clock.  In- 
stantly he  sprang  to  his  feet,  exclaiming, 
'  My  time  has  come  ! '  then  sinking  on  his 
knees,  he  cried  to  God  for  mercy.  His 
shrieks  were  heard  by  neighbors  living  far 
away.  In  a  few  moments  all  was  over, — 
he  had  breathed  his  last!" 

The  intelligence  smote  heavily  on  my 
heart,  filling  me  with  an  agony  almost  too 
keen  to  be  borne. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  259 

"Oh,"  I  cried,  "would  that  I  had 
yielded  to  the  Spirit,  and  not  lingered  to 
question  and  doubt.  Oh,  that  I  had  spo- 
ken one  word  to  him  concerning  his  need 
of  Christ ! "  I  then  related,  with  shame 
and  confusion  of  face,  all  my  exercises  in 
relation  to  the  deceased. 

"  Strange,"  said  my  friend ;  "  but  that 
man  talked  much  about  you  the  last  week 
or  two,  and  always  in  your  favor.  He 
uttered  not  a  word  against  your  preach- 
ing. I  know  not  but  he  would  have  wel- 
comed any  thing  you  might  have  said  to 
him." 

He  had  heard  something  of  the  gospel 
tliose  two  Sabbaths ;  he  had  not  scorned 
what  he  heard ;  united  intercession  had 
been  made  for  him;  he  had  cried  for 
mercy  at  last;  there  was  a  gleam  of  com- 
fort   in    these    reflections,    but    oh,    what 


260  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

would  I  not  have  given  to  have  had  some 
testimony  from  his  own  lips  that  he  had 
renounced  atheism,  and  cast  himself  on  the 
grace  of  the  compassionate  Saviour ! 

Christian  reader,  our  fathers  and  moth- 
ers in  Israel  believed  in  the  office-work  of 
the  Holy  Spirit;  believed  that  he  moved 
on  the  hearts  in  which  he  dwelt  to  special 
labor  for  perishing  souls.  Have  we  not 
wandered  away  from  their  simple,  scriptu- 
ral faith,  and  thus  grieved  the  Holy  Com- 
forter, and  become  unfruitful  in  the  work 
of  the  Lord,  till  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the 
blood  of  souls  may  be  found  on  our  gar- 
ments ?  Oh,  if  you  would  never  know  the 
bitter  sorrow  that  to  this  day  overwhelms 
me,  as  Memory  recalls  that  poor  skeptic, 
yield  to  the  heavenly  guidance,  and  fear 
not  to  speak  when  the  Spirit  prompts. 


s« 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  261 


"NOT    IN    VAIN.'* 

"  My  first  sermon,"  said  a  pastor,  "  what 
a  vivid  recollection  I  have  of  it !  "  A  min- 
isterial acquaintance  who  was  to  spend  the 
Sabbath  from  home,  on  exchange,  had  in- 
vited me  to  ride  with  him  to  his  appoint- 
ment.    On  arriving,  he  said, — 

"I  shall  depend  on  you  to  preach  half 
the  day." 

The  afternoon  was  left  for  me  to  im- 
prove. There  was  a  heavy  rain,  and  few 
ventured  out,  for  which  I  felt  more  and 
more  thankful  as  the  services  advanced. 
My  discourse,  partly  written  and  partly 
extempore,  sounded  to  my  own  ears  like 
the  "foolishness  of  preaching"  indeed;  and 


262  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

with  an  inward  resolution  never  again  to 
commit  the  folly  of  speaking  from  the 
sacred  desk,  I  went  home  mortified,  hum- 
bled, and  desponding. 

Some  years  afterwards,  while  settled  over 
a  church  in  Connecticut,  an  acute  bilious 
attack  laid  me  by  for  a  few  weeks  from 
the  labors  of  the  pastorate.  One  day,  while 
lying  dejected  on  the  sick-bed,  a  stranger 
visited  me.  He  was  also  a  pastor,  resid- 
ing some  twelve  miles  away.  After  some 
pleasant,  preliminary  words,  he  said, — 

"  I  have  come  on  an  errand  to  you.  It 
is  a  message  intrusted  to  me  by  a  dying 
woman.  Do  you  remember  spending  a 
Sabbath  in  H some  years  ago,  in  com- 
pany with  Rev.  Mr.  F.  ? " 

"  I  do,"  said  I,  while  a  quick  flush 
passed  over  my  face. 

"Do    you   recollect  what  a    great    rain 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  263 

there    was,     and    how    thin    the     attend- 
ance ? " 

"I  could  not  forget  it  if  I  would.'' 
"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  was  pastor  of  that 
church  then ;  we  did  not  meet,  however. 
Two  years  after  you  were  there,  I  was 
sent  for  to  converse  with  a  lady  about  to 
die.  She  was  ready  for  the  messenger. 
'But,'  said  she,  'I  have  a  special  request 
to  make  of  you ; '  then,  referring  to  your 
sermon,  at  that  time,  as  being  wonderfully 
blest  to  her,  she  added,  '  I  fear  he  went 
away  discouraged,  supposing  he  had  done 
no  good;  and  I  want  you  to  tell  him 
how  God  sent  home  that  discourse  to  my 
soul,  that  he  may  know  that  his  labor  was 
not  in  vain  in  the  Lord.'  And,"  contin- 
ued my  thoughtful  caller,  "hearing  you 
were  sick,  and  fearing  you  might  feel  low- 
spirited  in  being  unable   to  discharge  your 


264  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

accustomed  duties,  I  felt  it  my  duty  to 
ride  over  and  deliver  my  message  now, 
hoping  it  would  cheer  you  in  your  afflic- 
tions." 

'''  My  word  shall  not  return  unto  me 
void,"  says  Jehovah.  Toil  on  with  cour- 
age, all  you  who  cultivate  the  harvest-field 
of  the  gospel  here.  In  a  world  of  clearer 
light  you  shall  reap  in  joy ! 


ON  THE  FRONTIER.  265 


THE    PRAYING    BANKRUPT. 

Some  twenty-five  years  since,  in  a  sea- 
port town  in  New  England,  there  resided 
a  deacon,  who  was  engaged  in  lucrative 
business.  Although  of  prudent  habits,  his 
benevolence  led  him  to  indorse  largely  for 
one  who  had  won  his  confidence  as  a  Chris- 
tian brother,  but  afterwards  proved  to  be 
a  designing  knave.  This  issued  in  the  good 
deacon's  failure,  when,  with  scrupulous  in- 
tegrity, every  thing  that  could  be  claimed 
by  his  creditors  was  given  up.  A  winter 
of  great  severity  and  of  general  business 
depression  followed.  His  wife  and  young 
children  looked  to  him  for  a  subsistence 
which  he  knew  not  how  to  furnish,  as  his 


266  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

most  diligent  efforts  for  employment  were 
unsuccessful. 

A  debt  incurred,  with  no  prospect  of  pay- 
ment, was,  in  his  estimation,  sin ;  and  he 
sadly  saw  their  little  stock  of  provisions 
rapidly  diminishing,  with  no  way  to  obtain 
more.  He  was  a  man  of  prayer  as  well 
as  action,  and  carried  the  case  to  Him  who 
feedeth  the  ravens.  Yet  long,  weary  weeks 
passed  and  no  succor  came.  At  length  the 
morning  dawned  when  the  last  stick  of 
wood  was  on  the  fire,  and  little  Hatty  told 
her  father  that  tlie  candles  were  all  gone ; 
"  and  how,"  asked  she,  ''  shall  we  take 
care  of  dear  mamma  to-night?" 

The  question  went  to  the  father's  heart 
with  dagger-like  poignancy.  The  vision  of 
his  suffering  wife,  gasping  her  life  away  in 
the  last  fearful  stages  of  consumption,  her 
comfortless  sick-room  unwarmed,  unlighted, 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  267 

and  the  thick  darkness  which  he  knew 
would  enshroud  her  mind,  when  made 
aware  of  the  extent  of  their  destitution, 
would  have  driven  him  to  distraction,  were 
it  not  that  he  yet  had  hope  in  One  mighty 
to  save.  He  fled  to  his  closet,  and  there, 
in  an  agony  of  prayer,  besought  the  Lord 
for  help;  and,  forgetting  all  other  wants, 
plead  and  plead  again  for  the  two  articles 
now  specially  needed,  specifying  them  with 
reiterated  earnestness.  He  arose  from  his 
knees  in  full  assurance  of  faith  and  with 
heavenly  tranquillity,  and  went  forth,  ex- 
pecting deliverance,  looking  for  it,  how- 
ever, in  but  one  way,  —  through  his  own 
earnings.  But  after  a  fruitless  day  of 
seeking  employment,  gloomily  he  returned 
home. 

He  entered  his  gate,  and  was  startled  to 
see  before  him  a  generous  pile  of  wood. 


268  ON    THE   FRONTIER. 

Little  Johnny  opened  the  door,  clapping 
his  hands,  exclaiming, — 

"  Oh,  pa !  we've  got  some  wood  and 
some  candles ! " 

"But  where  did  you  get  them  ?  Are 
you  sure  they  were  not  left  here  by  mis- 
take ? '' 

"Oh,  no,  pa!"  interrupted  Hatty,  "they 
were  not  left  by  mistake.  A  man  knocked 
at  the  door  with  his  whip,  and  when  I 
opened  it,  he  asked  if  you  lived  here.  I 
told  him  you  did.  Then  he  said,  *.Here 
are  some  candles  and  a  load  of  wood  for 
him.'" 

"  I  asked  him  if  you  sent  them,  and  he 
said,  '  I  rather  guess  your  pa  don't  know 
any  thing  about  it.'" 

"  Who  did  send  them,  then  ?  "   said  I. 

" '  Oh,'  said  he,  '  I  musn't  tell,  but  you 
may  say  to  your  father  that  they  are  a 
present/  " 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  269 

But  to  what  instrumentality  they  were 
indebted  for  the  relief  was  a  mystery.  And 
what  particularly  interested  Deacon  P.  was, 
the  character  of  the  anonymous  presents ; 
that  the  very  things  so  much  needed,  and 
no  others,  should  be  sent,  and  he  was  sure 
he  had  mentioned  his  want  of  them  to  no 
human  ear. 

He  questioned  the  children  anew.  They 
described  the  man  who  knocked  at  the 
door,  the  horse  and  truck  he  drove.  A 
new  thought  struck  him.  ''  Why,"  said 
he,  "  that  team  belongs  to  my  old  enemy, 
Graflf.  Can  it  be  possible  he  is  the  donor  ? 
If  so,  surely  the  finger  of  God  has  touched 
his  heart."  Deacon  P.  was,  however,  so 
convinced  that  he  was  their  benefactor, 
that  he  resolved  on  an  immediate  call  on 
that  gentleman. 

But  who  was  Mr.  Graff? 


270  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

Some  years  before,  the  sacredness  of  the 
Sabbath  was  openly  violated  by  a  brisk 
trade  in  fish.  The  hundreds  of  boatmen, 
sailors,  and  their  friends,  engaged  in  this 
desecration,  were  so  potent  in  influence, 
that  nobody  thought  of  risking  interference. 
Deacon  P.,  though  a  man  of  peace,  was 
also  a  man  of  moral  courage.  He  deter- 
mined to  put  a  stop  to  the  iniquity.  His 
friends  warned  him  that  his  life  would  be 
endangered ;  but,  at  first  alone,  and  after- 
ward with  a  brother  deacon,  he  would  take 
a  walk  along  the  wharves  of  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing to  ascertain  who  broke  the  laws  by 
traffic  on  that  day.  Men  swore  at  him 
like  fiends,  fired  his  dwelling  at  several 
different  times,  and  at  last  "  bound  them- 
selves with  an  oath"  to  kill  him.  Yet 
they  feared  his  presence,  and  at  his  ap- 
proach   stores    would   be   deserted  of   cus- 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  271 

tomers,  and  closed  with  great  celerity. 
This  species  of  Sabbath-breaking  was  at 
length  broken  up,  after  various  hairbreadth 
escapes  on  the  part  of  Deacon  P.  and  his 
compatriot,  the  authorities  being  shamed 
into  action  by  their  fearless  zeal. 

The  brutal  drunkenness  of  the  sailors, 
and  the  degradation  and  suffering  of  their 
families,  with  which  Deacon  P.  was  in  this 
enterprise  brought  into  contact,  opened  his 
eyes  to  the  evils  of  the  liquor  traffic ;  and 
turning  over  hjk  Sabbath  reform  to  the 
legal  authorities,  he  became  known  as  a 
temperance  advocate.  This  also  brought 
him  enemies,  sometimes  changing  even 
friends  into  foes.  Distiller  Graff  was 
among  the  latter,  from  a  warm  friend  be- 
coming bitterly  alienated.  In  vain  did  the 
grieved  deacon  strive  to  conciliate  by  ex- 
planation and  personal  kindness.     Even  the 


272  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

trifling  civility  of  a  bow  was  rudely  unno- 
ticed by  Mr.  Graff. 

Deacon  P.  entered  the  distillery  of  his 
old  friend.  For  the  first  time  for  years 
its  proprietor  looked  up  with  a  nod  and 
smile  of  recognition.  It  was  evident  some- 
thing unusual  had  softened  his  heart. 

"  I  have  called,"  said  the  deacon,  "  to 
ask  if  you  can  tell  me  who  sent  some 
wood  and  candles  to  my  house  to-day?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  sent  them." 

"  You  are  very  kind ;  but  pray  tell  me 
how  you  came  to  do  so  ? " 

"  But  first,  let  me  inquire  if  you  really 
needed  them  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  can  not  express  to  you  how 
much ! " 

"Well,  then,  I  suppose  I  must  explain," 
said  Mr.  Graff.  "  It's  all  very  singular, 
and   sometimes    seems    very   foolish.      This 


ON  THE  FRONTIER.  273 

morning,  about  ten  o'clock,  as  I  was  busy 
at  my  work,  suddenly  a  voice  seemed  to 
say  to  me,  '  Send  some  wood  to  Deacon 
P.,  he  is  in  want  I '  I  was  astonished. 
I  could  not  believe  you  needed  it.  And 
I  could  not  send  it  to  you  of  all  others. 
I  tried  to  banish  the  thought,  and  went 
to  work  again  more  earnestly.  But  ihQ 
voice  —  it  seemed  within  me  —  said  again, 
with  painful  distinctness,  '  Send  some  wood 
to  Deacon  P.,  he  is  in  want!^  I  scouted 
the  idea  as  weak  and  silly;  a  mere  phan- 
tasy of  the  brain;  but  it  was  of  no  use; 
I  had  to  succumb.  The  more  I  ridiculed 
and  fought  it,  the  more  vivid  and  irresisti- 
ble was  the  impression,  until,  to  purchase 
peace,  and  in  some  awe,  I  confess,  I  bade 
John  load  his  team  with  wood  and  leave 
it  at  your  door. 

"  For  a  moment  I  was  at  rest ;  but  only 
18 


274  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

for  a  moment.  The  imperative  whisper 
came,  *  Send  some  candles  I '  Said  I  to 
myself,  this  is  too  absurd ;  I  will  not  grat- 
ify this  whim ;  but  again  I  was  so  beset 
with  the  mandate,  and  so  distressed  and 
baffled  in  repelling  it,  that,  as  a  cheap 
way  to  get  out  of  torment,  I  handed  John 
a  package  of  candles  also. 

"  This  matter  has  been  in  my  mind  ever 
since.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  it  almost 
a  freak  of  insanity,  and  then  again,  such 
was  the  strange  character  of  the  impres- 
sion, so  unexpected,  so  solemn  and  power- 
ful, and  such  the  singular  peace  following 
compliance  with  its  dictates,  that  I  almost 
believe  it  to  be  supernatural." 

"It  is,  indeed,  the  doings  of  Him  who 
is  wonderful  in  working,*'  replied  Deacon 
P.  "  It  was  about  ten  o'clock,  I  well  re- 
member, that  I    plead  with   God  for  the 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  275 

very  articles  you  sent  me,  in  an  agony  of 
wrestling  I  never  knew  before.  It  was 
then  too  that  my'  soul  was  filled  with  the 
conviction  that  my  prayer  was  heard  and 
relief  would  come." 

Since  hearing  a  venerated  relative  relate 
this  incident  in  his  own  life,  we  have  often 
wondered  how  the  skeptic  can  dispose  of 
such  occurrences.  While  it  would  be  pre- 
sumption for  the  believer  to  expect  to  live 
by  prayer  alone,  to  be  fed  without  his  own 
cooperation,  as  was  Elijah,  yet  are  there 
not  events  happening  all  along  the  history 
of  the  church,  in  the  experiences  of  indi- 
vidual members,  to  be  accounted  for  only 
on  the  ground  of  a  special  Providence,  re- 
gardful of  the  emergencies  of  the  believ- 
ing, suffering  people  of  God?  Surely, 
^*  light  is  sown  for  the  righteous,"  and  to 
them, 

<*  The  deepest  dark  reveals  the  starriest  hope." 


276  ON  THE   FEONTIER. 


"A    SOFT    ANSWER." 

It  was  in  the  town  of ,  Connecticut, 

in  which  I  began  my  never-to-be-forgotten 
labors,  distributing  religious  reading,  and 
urging  the  messages  of  salvation  on  all  I 
met,  as  I  visited  from  house  to  house. 

"If  you  wish  to  see  the  most  discoura- 
ging features  of  your  mission  at  the  outset, 
visit  the  Northeast  District,"  a  clergyman 
had  said  to  me ;  "  every  thing  that  is  bad 
you  will  find  there.  I  hope  it  will  not 
discourage  you." 

"  I  had  made  out,  by  the  aid  of  Chris- 
tian friends,  a  moral  and  religious  chart 
of  the  place,  by  sketching  on  paper  the 
streets   and  roads,  with  the  names  of  the 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  277 

families  living  on  them,  together  with  such 
information  about  the  spiritual  condition  of 
the  inhabitants  as  I  needed  to  guide  con- 
versation. 

Among  the  residents  was  a  Mr.  D.,  who 
was  represented  to  be  a  bold,  swearing 
man,  high-tempered,  and  abusive  to  those 
of  evangelical  faith.  He  had  once  belonged 
to  a  Christian  church,  but  getting  into  dif- 
ficulty with  some  of  the  members,  he  be- 
came imbittered,  and  ceased  to  attend  the 
meetings,  even  on  the  Sabbath.  Ere  long 
he  took  to  drinking,  became  profane,  would 
work  at  his  trade  on  the  Lord's  day,  him- 
self and  his  numerous  household  becom- 
ing openly  hostile  to  the  interests  of  reli- 
gion, and  advocates  of  the  doctrine  of  Uni- 
versalism. 

Such  was  the  account  of  him  as  given 
me  by  his  grieved  pastor,  and  others  of  his 


278  ON    THE   FliONTIEE. 

former  friends,  who  had  long  since  given 
up  all  hope  of  his  restoration. 

Mr.  D.  I  found  at  his  blacksmith*s  shop, 
a  brawny,  dark-browed  man.  He  was  blow- 
ing at  the  bellows.  Approaching  him  with 
my  basket  on  my  arm,  I  said, — 

"I  have  called,  sir,  with  some  choice 
books  and  tracts ;   would  you  like  one  ? " 

The  old  man  turned  upon  me  in  a  tem- 
pest of  passion. 

"  What  did  you  bring  your  miserable 
fire-and-brimstone  trash  here  for  ? "  pour- 
ing forth  a  torrent  of  coarse  and  insulting 
appellatives. 

Waiting  till  the  ebullition  subsided,  I 
gently  said,  —  for  a  rising  pity  overpow- 
ered all  natural  resentments, — 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  sir ;  I  did  not  de- 
sign to  intrude  on  you,  but  knowing  that 
the  works  I  have  are  the  productions  of 


:^^-^-  -^-^- 


A  Soft  Answer.    Frontier,  i>.  278. 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  279 

Bome  of  the  best  minds,  and  that  they  are 
intended  to  benefit  those  who  read  them, 
I  ventured  to  offer  them  to  you." 

He  stood  silent  a  moment.  Then,  soft- 
ened, said, — 

"  I  will  buy  one  of  them ; "  and  taking 
up  the  first  volume  that  came  to  hand,  —  a 
work  on  the  Sabbath,  —  left  a  piece  of  silver 
in  its  place,  and  returned  to  his  task. 

"I  heard  that  you  called  on  Mr.  D.  at 
his  shop,"  said  the  good  minister  to  me, 
next  day ;   "  how  did  he  receive  you  ? " 

I  described  the  interview.  By  way  of 
comment,  he  said, — 

"Well,  the  book  he  purchased  was  just 
what  he  needed.  I  hope  he  will  read  it, 
but  I  fear  he  will  not.'' 

Three  months  after,  as  I  was  passing 
through  the  place,  I  called  again  on  the 
clergyman. 


280  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

"I  have  a  desire  to  know,"  said  I,  "if 
you  have  seen  any  fruits  of  my  labor  in 
your  parish  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  with  a  pleased  smile, 
"I  have.  My  congregation  has  been  larger 
since,  than  for  years.  And,"  he  added, 
"  do  you  remember  Mr.  D.,  the  black- 
smith, who  treated  you  so  outrageously, 
but  relented,  and  bought  a  little  treatise 
on  the  Sabbath  ?  What  was  my  astonish- 
ment, a  few  Sundays  after,  to  see  that 
man  and  all  his  family  come  into  church ! 
They  have  been  regular  attendants  ever 
since." 

Not  long  after  I  was  permitted  to  hear 
that  the  blacksmith,  reclaimed  from  his 
backslidings,  had  been  restored  to  member- 
ship, and  that  a  number  of  his  children 
had  professed  Christ  before  the  world. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  281 


THAT    PROMISE. 

At  a  recent  Sabbath  school  concert  the 
superintendent  said,  "We  have  no  speak- 
ers from  abroad  to  announce  this  evening, 
and  therefore  we  shall  have  to  rely  for  re- 
marks on  our  home  gifts.  I  see  that 
brother  S.  is  present.  We  would  like  to 
hear  from  him." 

The  person  named,  a  young  man,  came 
immediately  forward,  and  said,  in  sub- 
stance, — 

"  Some  years  ago  I  made  a  promise.  It 
was,  that  whenever  I  should  be  invited  to 
speak  a  word  for  Christ,  in  public,  I  would 
make  no  excuses,  but  do  the  best  I  could. 
That  promise  I  have  ever  regarded  as  sa- 


282  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

cred,  because  it  is  a  promise,  and  because 
it  was  made  to  my  nearest  and  best  Friend. 
Once  I  was  in  fearful  danger.  He  rescued 
me  from  that  danger.  Once  I  was  wretched, 
without  peace  of  mind,  unhappy,  degraded. 
He  raised  me  up  from  my  low  estate, 
comforted  and  cheered  me.  Many  times 
since  then  I  have  been  in  trouble  and  he 
has  helped  me.  I  have  sometimes  forgot- 
ten that  Friend,  often  grieved  him,  said 
and  done  things  that  were  displeasing  to 
him,  slighted  and  insulted  him  in  ways 
that  no  other  friend  could  overlook,  and 
yet  he  has  been  constantly  kind,  forbear- 
ing, and  generous.  All  I  have  that  is 
worth  any  thing  I  owe  to  his  love,  and  all 
I  expect  that  is  desirable  and  glorious  he 
only  can  give  me.  Can  you  tell  me,  chil- 
dren, who  that  Friend  is  ?  " 

"  Jesus !   Jesus !  "   responded  a  score  of 
voices. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  283 

"Yes,  dear  scholars,"  he  replied,  "it 
was  Jesus ;  and  I  can  not  break  my  prom- 
ise to  such  a  Friend.  Therefore  it  is  that, 
though  called  upon  unexpectedly,  I  will 
try  to  interest  you  for  a  few  moments." 
And  as  he  proceeded  with  his  remarks  — 
apt,  sprightly,  impressive,  it  was  plain  that 
that  Friend  was  true  to  his  promise,  and 
was  furnishing  him  richly  for  that  time  of 
need. 

And  in  thus  redeeming  our  Christian 
pledge  are  we  not  always  blest? 

A  Christian  gentleman,  whose  "  praise  is 
in  all  the  churches,"  not  only  for  his  large- 
hearted  benevolence,  but  for  his  excellent 
gifts  in  prayer  and  exhortation,  when  a 
young  convert,  would  be  so  embarrassed, 
when  attempting  to  speak  in  conference 
meeting,  as  to  be  obliged  to  resume  his 
seat  almost  without  uttering  a  word.     But 


284  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

he  had  resolved  to  persevere ;  he  kept  his 
resolution  and  excelled  in  these  services. 

A  godly  deacon,  now  seventy-five  years 
of  age,  leads  the  devotions  of  the  largest 
assemblies  in  and  out  of  the  denomination, 
and  expounds  Scripture  with  remarkable 
acceptance.  Yet  when  a  young  man  his 
speech  was  awkward  and  blundering,  and 
his  diffidence  extreme.  He  was  so  illiter- 
ate also,  that  before  reading  a  chapter  in 
the  Bible,  in  the  presence  of  others,  his 
wife  had  first  to  read  it  to  him. 

"  I  made  a  promise,"  said  he,  "  when 
the  Lord  forgave  my  sins,  that  I  would 
never  refuse  to  speak  for  him,  or  to  pray 
in  public,  when  properly  requested  to  do 
60,  and  I  have  kept  my  word." 

Christian  reader,  have  you  made  a  simi- 
lar promise?    Have  you  kept  it? 


ON  THE  FRONTIER.  285 


AFTER    MANY    DAYS. 

Deacon  N.  held  to  both  tables  of  the 
law,  and  when  an  object  of  charity  pre- 
sented itself,  he  was  quite  sure  to  "lend 
something"  to  the  Lord.  One  evening  a 
poorly-dressed  sailor  called  at  his  door  with 
a  story  of  sorrow.  He  said  he  had  been 
shipwrecked,  and  lost  every  thing  but  the 
scanty  clothing  he  wore ;  was  without 
money,  food,  or  shelter.  He  was  an  entire 
stranger,  and  presented  an  appearance  of 
extreme  wretchedness ;  but  the  worthy  dea- 
con took  him  in,  gave  him  a  comfortable 
supper  and  bed,  fitted  him  out  with  coat, 
pants,  and  vest,  put  some  of  the  needful 
in  his  empty  wallet,  and  then  setting  out 


286  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

with  him  in  search  of  employment,  se- 
cured a  place  for  him  on  board  a  mer- 
chant-ship, and  bade  him  good-bj,  amid 
a  profusion  of  blessings  and  praises.  It 
was  a  benevolent  experiment,  and  many 
were  the  evil  prophesyings  of  neighbors 
and  friends  concerning  the  issue  of  the 
case. 

*^  I  shall  never  forget  your  kindness," 
said  the  sailor,  "  and  some  day  you  shall 
hear  from  me  again,  and  know  that  it  has 
not  been  thrown  away." 

Years  passed.  The  kind-hearted  deacon 
failed  in  business,  and  removed  to  a  dis- 
tant town.  But  if  worldly  reverses  had 
come,  the  richer  blessings  of  the  gospel 
were  lavished  with  divine  generosity  on 
his  household.  One  after  another  of  his 
children  was  made  the  subject  of  renew- 
ing grace,  till  all  were   found  walking  in 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  287 

the  commandments  and  ordinances  of  the 
Lord. 

"  Two  of  his  sons  entered  the  ministry. 
In  the  providence  of  God  one  of  them  was 
called  to  spend  a  Sabbath  in  the  city  of 

B .     During  the  evening  discourse  his 

attention  was  attracted*  to  a  well-dressed, 
intelligent  looking  man,  whose  eyes  were 
fixed  on  his  with  marked  interest.  After 
service  the  stranger  said,  "  May  I  ask,  sir, 
if  your  name  is  N.  ?  " 

On  receiving  an  answer  in  the  affirma- 
tive, he  exclaimed,  with  deep  emotion, 
"  God  bless  you,  sir !  I  knew  you  from 
your  resemblance  to  your  father.  You  do 
not  remember  me,  for  you  were  a  little 
boy  when  I  came  to  his  house,  a  cast-away 
sailor,  ragged  and  hungry,  without  a  cent 
in  my  pocket.  He  helped  me  when  others 
looked  at  me  with  suspicion  and  turned  me 


288  ON  THE   FRONTIER. 

away  unfed.  I  have  never  forgotten  him, 
and  never  shall.  Tell  him  I  think  of  him 
voften,  and  pray  for  him,  too." 

And  as  the  grateful  seaman  departed, 
the  generous  bank  bill  that  remained  in 
the  preacher's  hand  attested  the  sincerity 
of  his  words. 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  289 


MY    COUSIN. 

Amiaijle  and  engaging,  she  was  the  life 
of  the  circles  in  which  she  moved.  In 
personal  attractions  few  were  her  equals, 
and  from  her  kind  and  genial  presence 
depression  and  gloom  fled  like  darkness 
before  the  footsteps  of  morning.  Her  open- 
ing years  were  full  of  gladness ;  who  could 
foresee  that  her  "  days  of  darkness  would 
be  many  ? " 

George  Evans  had  won  her  affections, 
and  well  do  I  remember  my  desire,  though 
then  a  mere  lad,  to  know  the  successful 
competitor  for  her  hand.  I  first  saw  him 
under  circumstances  which  filled  me  with 
apprehension.  It  was  the  anniversary  of 
19 


290  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

our  national  independence.  He  was  pass- 
ing with  a  crowd  when  a  companion  pointed 
him  out.  I  followed  him  in  anxious  curi- 
osity ;  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  who 
was  to  wed  my  cousin  Carrie  should  be 
nearly  perfect.  Many  times  did  I  wish  my- 
self far  away,  as,  fascinated  by  a  horror- 
struck  interest,  I  was  jostled  in  that  throng, 
to  hear  from  his  lips  the  language  of  pro- 
fanity, and  witness  proofs  of  his  intemper- 
ance. "Was  she  to  be  the  wife  of  such  a 
man?  Friends  had  warned  him  of  his  evil 
habits,  but  he  was  so  manly  in  appearance, 
and  in  her  presence  so  correct  in  language 
and  deportment,  her  attendant  at  church, 
and  manifesting  there  such  a  reverence  for 
religion,  that  she  entertained  no  misgiv- 
ings. 

They   were    married.      A    year   elapsed, 
during   which   nothing   served   to   mar  the 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  291 

happiness  of  the  young  couple,  and  we  had 
well  nigh  dismissed  our  fears,  when,  one 
autumn  evening,  in  passing  their  residence 
I  met  them.  They  had  just  returned  from 
a  walk,  and  were  parting  at  the  door. 
"  You  will  not  stay  late,  will  you,  George  ? " 
Carrie  was  saying.  I  saw  that  she  was 
pale.  The  husband  gave  an  evasive  reply, 
and  left  her.  My  direction  lay  with  his, 
and  as  I  followed  on,  the  sorrowful  pallor 
of  her  face  haunted  me.  Conspicuous  on 
a  public  corner  was  one  of  those  gilded 
hells,  which  allure  to  destruction.  Evans 
lingered  a  moment  at  the  door,  then  passed 
hastily  down  the  steps  into  the  "  saloon." 
The  power  of  that  infernal  magic  by  which 
a  man  of  reason  is  moved  to  prefer  the 
orgies  of  such  a  mystery  of  iniquity,  and 
the  pestilential  companionship  of  bloated, 
blasphemous    wretches,  to   the    society  of 


292  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

the  fair  and  pure  being  to  whom  he  is 
united  in  holiest  bonds,  thank  God,  I  know 
not ;  but  this  I  know,  that  the  stricken  wife 
kept  vigils  of  agony  through  that  long 
night,  and  when  the  faithless  husband  re- 
turned, it  was  with  unsteady  step  and  bru- 
tal oaths.  This  was  "but  the  beginning 
of  sorrows."  A  friend  thus  gives  a  glimpse 
of  her  eventful  history. 

"  You  ask  after  Carrie  Carleton.  Poor 
woman,  hers  has  been  a  sad  lot.  Her  hus- 
band has  di^gged  her  down  the  steeps  of 
misfortune,  until  worn  and  weary,  Con- 
sumption has  smitten  her,  and  she  weeps 
on  the  verge  of  the  grave.  Weeps,  did  I 
say  ?  Yes,  for  him,  but  as  for  herself,  she 
trusts  all  in  the  hands  of  her  Saviour. 
What  a  miracle  is  love  when  hallowed  and 
refined  by  piety !  Of  high  family,  and  nur- 
tured tenderly,  yet  allied  by  marriage  to  a 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  293 

sot  and  a  tyrant,  it  is  impossible  to  paint 
what  she  has  so  uncomplainingly  endured. 
Some  three  years  since  a  hollow  cough, 
and  frequent  bleeding  from  the  lungs  ad« 
monished  that  her  trials  would  be  short. 
Physicians  gave  her  up.  But  see  how,  at 
the  mercy  of  circumstances,  we  are  in  this 
world.  Evans,  under  the  labors  of  the 
Washingtonians,  reformed.  For  a  time  he 
seemed  a  man  again,  was  frugal,  industri- 
ous, and  kind.  But,  insidiously  tempted, 
he  tasted  again  the  enchanted  cup,  and 
sank  lower  than  before.  During  his  refor- 
mation Carrie  became  like  one  raised  from 
the  dead ;  her  ^tep  regained  its  elasticity, 
and  her  laugh  its  gladness.  She  attributed 
this  to  a  change  of  medicine,  but  when 
George  again  fell,  she  declined  rapidly. 
His  course  in  the  downward  road  was  fear- 
fully accelerated.    His  business  neglected, 


294  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

his  credit  gone,  his  days  spent  in  the  tip- 
pling-shop,  and  his  nights  in  haunts  of  ini- 
quity, on  her  devolved  the  sustenance  of 
the  family.  This  she  worked  hard  to  pro- 
vide by  taking  boarders.  But  who  would 
long  remain  to  witness  her  sorrows,  and 
to  share  her  ill-treatment  at  the  hands  of 
her  ill-clad,  profane,  and  fault-finding  com- 
panion ?  So,  in  a  miserable  chamber,  Car- 
rie toiled  with  her  needle,  solicitous  for 
her  husband  when  away,  lest  in  the  help- 
lessness of  inebriety,  or  in  some  drunken 
brawl,  injury  would  come  to  him,  or  he 
commit  some  horrid  crime. 

It  was  affecting,  amid  all  these  hardships, 
to  see  how  uncomplaining  was  the  wife. 
When  others  censured  his  conduct  she 
would  make  excuses  for  him,  striving  to 
make  it  appear  that  he  was  not  so  bad  as 
they  thought,  or  that  his  evil  deeds  were 
attributable  to  the  influence  of  others. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  295 

Once  only  did  she  speak  at  all  freely  of 
her  sufferings.  It  was  when  visiting  at 
good  deacon  J.'s.  After  the  family  had 
retired,  overburdened  with  anguish,  she 
poured  into  the  ears  of  the  deacon  and  his 
sympathizing  wife  such  a  tale  of  neglect, 
anxiety,  deprivation,  and  abuse,  as  well 
nigh  broke  their  hearts. 

"  And  why  don't  you  leave  such  a  mon- 
ster forever  ?  "  said  Mrs.  J.,  her  eyes  stream- 
ing with  tears. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  mournfully  returned,  "  you 
can  not  tell  what  you  would  do  as  a  drunk- 
ard's wife."  Then  added,  rising  and  wring- 
ing her  hands,  "  I  love  George,  with  all 
his  faults !  There's  no  living  with  him, 
and  there's  no  living  without  him ! " 

Some  time  after,  when  visiting  in  a  sea- 
board city,  incidentally  I  learned  that  Mrs. 
Evans  resided  there.      I  found  her   in  an 


296  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

obscure  tenement.  She  welcomed  me  with 
a  placid  smile,  —  but  how  changed!  so 
thin  and  wasted,  —  while  on  her  cheeks 
bloomed  the  fatal  crimson.  The  bare  floor 
and  meager  furniture  bespoke  her  destitu- 
tion. In  full  prospect  of  death  she  con- 
versed calmly  of  her  tribulations,  antici- 
pating with  hope  the  coming  of  the  last 
messenger.  More  than  a  year  previous,  her 
husband  deserted  her  on  the  pretense  of 
going  South  for  business.  No  tidings  had 
she  heard  of  him,  though  she  diligently 
searched  the  papers  and  inquired  at  the 
post-office ;  faithful  to  him,  though  worse 
than  widowed. 

"And  how  have  your  little  family  man- 
aged to  get  along  during  this  hard  win- 
ter?" 

"  I  have  endeavored  not  to  afflict  others 
with  our  troubles,"  she  replied,  "  but  God 


ON   THE   FKONTIER.  297 

has  raised  us  up  benefactors.  And  in  the 
way  in  which  this  has  been  done  I  have 
realized  how  he  would  learn  us,  to  the 
last,  lessons  of  charity  toward  all.  I  have 
long  been  prejudiced  against  the  Friends ; 
but  one  stormy  day,  when  the  streets  were 
blocked  with  snow,  and  we  were  very  des- 
titute, one  of  their  number  called.  I  was 
a  little  startled  when  he  entered,  but  be- 
neath his  broad-brimmed  hat  was  a  face 
so  benign,  that  I  quickly  forgot  he  was  a 
stranger,  and  before  I  was  aware  he  knew 
something  of  our  necessities.  Why,  he 
seemed  like  my  buried  father!  ^Thee 
mustn't  suffer,'  said  he ;  and  since,  in  our 
moments  of  extremity,  when  others  would 
not  venture  to  come,  through  the  fiercest 
storms  and  the  bitterest  cold,  and  just 
when  I  had  been  praying  with  the  most 
urgent  sense  of  need,  he,  or  his  lovely  wife, 


298  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

would  be  sure  to  happen  in  with  a  load  of 
blessings.  Now  they  are  to  me  as  angels 
of  mercy,  and  even  their  peculiar  garb 
seems  beautiful,  and  their  thee  and  thou 
are  like  music  to  my  heart.  Thus  does 
our  Father  teach  us  to  love  all  his  children 
ere  we  meet  them  in  his  house  above. 
And  thus  does  he  cause  strangers  to  be 
as  parents,  when  the  nearest  and  dearest 
forsake  us." 

When  the  balmy  south  wind  unlocked 
the  frozen  earth,  and  hailed  by  blithe  song- 
sters, the  dead  plant  awoke  to  beauty  and 
fragrance,  Carrie  Carleton  found  the  repose 
of  the  grave. 

<'  Asleep  in  Jesus !   blessed  sleep  ! 
From  wMch  none  ever  •wake  to  weep." 

Though  slain  by  the  treachery  of  man, 
through    the    "Faithful    and    True,"    she 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  299 

conquered  death,  and  welcomed  the  tomb 
with  a  smile  of  joy. 

My  murdered  cousin !  I  think  of  thee 
in  the  night  watches,  and  weep  at  the  re- 
membrance of  thy  wrongs.  But,  alas ! 
thou  art  not  the  only  victim  of  the  re- 
morseless rum  traffic.  From  many  house- 
holds has  it  borne  away  the  fair,  the  good, 
and  all  the  heart  holds  precious.  Alas,  its 
premature  graves  disfigure  every  hill-side 
and  every  plain. 

When  shall  this  great  evil  cease  ?  Chris- 
tians, philanthropists,  law-makers,  when  ? 


eSOO  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 


INCIDENT    IN    A    DEPOT. 

I  WAS  pacing  the  floor,  impatiently  wait- 
ing the  arrival  of  the  steamer.  The  other 
passengers  had  come  in,  till  the  seats  in 
the  "gentlemen's  room"  were  quite  filled, 
when  the  door  again  opened  and  a  woman 
entered.  She  held  in  her  hands  some  boxes 
of  blacking,  and  approaching  me,  as  the 
person  nearest  the  door,  offered  them  for 
sale.  I  had  scarcely  declined  purchasing, 
when,  noticing  the  woman  more  closely,  I 
regretted  not  having  favored  her.  Her  face 
was  pale,  sad,  and  careworn.  Her  dress  was 
neat,  yet  cheap  and  scant,  and  her  man- 
ner timid  in  the  extreme.  It  was  plain 
that  my   refusal  had  well  nigh  frightened 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  301 

away  her  small  stock  of  courage,  for  she 
stood  irresolute  a  moment,  as  if  fearing  a 
similar  repulse  from  others  to  whom  she 
might  apply ;  then,  summoning  resolution, 
she  passed  to  the  man  at  my  right,  and 
asked,  faintly,  "  Will  you  buy  some  black- 
ing, sir  ?  " 

He  also  shook  his  head.  She  paused 
once  more  with  a  pained  look,  then  mutely 
tendered  the  boxes  to  each  person  in  the 
room,  going  unsuccessfully  round  the  en- 
tire circle.  The  last  one  accosted  was  a 
young  sailor,  in  tarpaulin  and  blue  jacket. 
He  sat  leaning  over  a  paper,  reading, 
when  she  found  voice  to  say,  despondently, 
"Won't  you  take  a  box?" 

By  this  time  the  attention  of  all  the  per- 
sons present  was  fixed  on  her  with  deepen- 
ing interest.  The  downcast  eyes  ;  the  alter- 
nate pallor  and  crimson  of  cheek,  and  neck. 


302  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

and  brow;  the  slow,  hesitating  step,  now 
advancing,  now  stopping,  as  if  powerless 
to  proceed ;  utterance  overcome  by  emo- 
tion,—  impressed  us  that  some  great  trouble 
or  an  inexorable  emergency  had  brought  her 
thus  before  us. 

"I  don't  want  your  blacking,"  said  the 
seaman,  heartily ;  "  and  if  I  did,  'twould 
be  of  no  use  to  me,  for  I  am  more  than 
two  hundred  miles  from  home ;  but  if  you 
want  money,"  drawing  forth  a  handful  of 
loose  change,  "  you  can  have  it !  "  At  the 
first  movement  of  his  hand  pocketward, 
before  his  words  had  interpreted  the  ac- 
tion, most  of  the  men  present,  with  ev- 
ident feeling,  were  doing  the  same, 
and,  pouring  their  united  contributions 
into  the  apron  of  the  astonished  woman, 
she  retired,  overpowered  with  gratitude 
and  joy. 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  303 

As  I  stepped  aboard  the  boat  I  thought, 
how  eloquent  is  silence !  No  tale  of  sor- 
row did  this  woman  present  to  excite  pity. 
Her  mute  appeal  was  understood.  And 
is  not  many  a  good  cause  injured,  rather 
than  helped,  by  the  wordiness  of  its  advo- 
cates ?  Are  we  not  often  conscious  of  in- 
ternal revolt,  as  we  listen  to  verbose 
appeals  to  our  sympathies,  whether  on 
behalf  of  private  or  public  charities  ?  We 
get  accustomed  to  declamation,  to  argu- 
ment, and  to  peroration,  but  who  can  resist 
sincerity,  modesty,  sensibility,  —  the  con- 
densed, broken,  or  speechless  plea  of  a 
full  heart? 

And  then,  too,  the  power  of  example, — 
of  frank,  disinterested,  beneficent  action,  — 
do  we  ponder  this  as  we  ought?  The  gen- 
erous sailor,  in  his  homely  sea-garb,  led 
nearly   a   score    of   men    that   day  in   the 


304  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

work  of  mercy,  and  the  lowliest  and  poor- 
est are  never  so  low  and  poor  as  to  be 
without  the  opportunity  and  means  of  in- 
fluencing others  by  efficiency  in  well- 
doing. 


ON  THE  FRONTIER.  305 


MY    STEP-MOTHER. 

I  WAS  six  years  of  age  when  she  came 
to  fill  the  terrible  void  caused  by  the  death 
of  my  mother.  I  can  well  remember  how 
we  children  drew  back  from  the  stranger 
who  had  come  to  take  her  place.  There 
were  seven  of  us ;  each  an  idolater  at  the 
shrine  of  our  dear  mother's  memory.  The 
oldest,  who  possessed  a  quick,  bright  intel- 
lect, and  was  somewhat  willful  withal,  quite 
resented  the  idea  of  a  second  mother.  Her 
strong  hostility  was  contagious,  for  she  was 
at  the  head  of  domestic  affairs.  Then  some 
sympathizing  neighbor  would  place  her 
hand  on  my  head  and  say;  compassion- 
ately, "  Poor  boy  I  You'll  have  a  hard 
20 


306  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

time  trying  to  make  a  mother  out  of  a 
mother-in-law.  She'll  never  feel  toward 
you  as  if  you  were  her  own  child." 

Well,  one  day  I  was  measured  for  a  new 
suit  of  clothes.  Other  articles  of  toilet  to 
correspond  came  ere  long.  Indeed,  there 
seemed  to  be  a  general  refurnishing 
throughout  house  and  household.  What 
it  all  meant  I  could  not  conjecture,  and  no 
one  told  me.  Then  one  afternoon  there 
came  a  universal  scrubbing  of  the  faces 
and  hands  of  the  children,  and  we  were  all 
dressed  in  our  best  clothes.  There  was 
something  unusual  about  to  take  place. 
What  could  it  be  ?  Not  a  meeting,  for  no 
such  preparation,  that  is,  in  kind  and 
spirit,  ever  preceded  those  staid  religious 
gatherings  often  witnessed  in  our  large, 
old-fashioned  parlor.  Still,  a  hush  and  a 
gravity  pervaded   the   busy  household,  im- 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  307 

parting  a  sort  of  half-and-half  aspect,  some- 
what festive  and  somewhat  solemn.  At 
length  the  important  secret  was  condescend- 
ingly communicated  to  me. 

"  Now,"  said  my  eldest  sister,  as  she 
combed  my  hair  back  a  la  Majjitt,  (for  like 
other  sentimentally  inclined  young  ladies 
of  the  town,  she  had  been  captivated  with 
the  Irish  preacher's  eloquence),  "do  you 
behave  like  a  little  man  this  evening,  for 
father  's  going  to  be  married,  and  we  are 
all  to  be  at  the  wedding !  " 

"  Wedding !  What  do  they  do  there  ?  " 
"  Why,  you  little  dunce,  there'll  be  a 
whole  parlor  full  of  folks,  and  the  minis- 
ter will  be  there  and  make  a  speecli  and 
pray,  and  marry  father  and  his  bride,  and 
then  cake  and  wine  will  be  passed  around 
to  all  the  company.  You'll  get  a  large 
slice  of  the  best  cake  you  ever  ate,  and  a 


308  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

sip  of  the  wine,  and  then  —  why,  then  you 
see,  you'll  have  a  step-mother  to  train  you 
up  in  the  way  you  should  go.  How  will  you 
like  that?" 

Bolt  upright,  in  an  exceedingly  uncom- 
fortable position,  on  a  stiff,  hard  chair, 
scarcely  daring  to  wink,  I  sat  on  that 
eventful  night.  Several  relatives  of  the 
bride  spoke  kindly  to  me,  without,  in  the 
least,  relaxing  my  mental  and  muscular 
rigidity,  till  one  of  them,  , since  known  as 
the  most  lovable  of  aunts,  brought  me  a 
piece  of  handsomely  frosted  cake,  and  a 
glass  of  wine,  both  of  which  I  supposed 
were  mysterious  parts  of  the  mysterious 
marriage  rite.  Though  how  eating  and 
drinking  helped  to  give  me  a  new  mother 
I  did  not  comprehend. 

"  Take  it  all,  dear !  "  said  she,  sinking 
down  before  me  on  the  carpet,  as  I  diffi- 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  309 

dently  broke  off  a  crumb  of  the  cake. 
"  It's  yours,  and  you  have  just  as  good  a 
right  to  it  as  any  body,  if  you  are  a  little 
boy.'' 

I  obeyed,  thinking  it  a  part  of  the  cere- 
mony, gazing  the  while  into  her  black 
eyes,  that  were  soft,  and  limpid,  and 
loving. 

Our  new  mother  went  home  with  us 
that  night,  for  the  marriage  was  at  "  Aunt 
Abby's."  What  a  prim  set  we  were  in- 
deed !  What  a  constraint  was  on  us,  know- 
ing a  mother-in-law  was  installed  in  the 
home,  to  reign  over  us,  her  unwilling  sub- 
jects. Very  undemocratic  it  seemed,  cer- 
tainly, for  we  hadn't  cast  a  vote  nor  been 
consulted  even !  However,  the  general 
awkwardness  was  relieved  by  her  leaving 
home  on  a  bridal  visit.  She  was  to  be 
gone  a    fortnight.      How    glad    we   were! 


310  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

How  we  dreaded  her  return,  gossiping 
about  it,  hoping  it  might  be  protracted. 
But  she  came  promptly  back  to  her  post, 
and,  spite  of  my  suspicions,  I  couldn't  help 
a  warm  glow  as  she  kissed  us  each,  and, 
unpacking  her  trunk,  gave  the  presents  she 
had  brought  us.  Her  cordial,  motherly 
greeting  was  a  shock  to  our  prejudices, 
from  which  they  did  not  at  once  recover. 
But  objections  to  the  step-mother  of  a  more 
personal  nature  were  soon  discussed. 

"  To  think  that  your  father  should  marry 
a  country  woman,  farm-born  and  bred," 
said  one.  "  She  can  not  have  seen  any 
thing  of  society,  and  must  be  coarse  and 
low.  And  your  first  mother  was  a  perfect 
lady ! " 

"  New  brooms  sweep  clean,"  suggested 
another,  "  but  look  out  for  black  eyes ; 
they  are  always  deceitful ! " 


ON   THE    FRONTIER.  311 

Poor,  dear  woman !  little  did  she  know 
what  a  burden  she  was  assuming  in  becom- 
ing the  wife  of  a  widower  with  seven  chil- 
dren, who  had  been  taught  to  distrust  her 
noblest  actions,  and  set  her  authority  at 
defiance.  But  meagerly  could  she  fore- 
cast the  toil  and  anxiety,  the  heart-griefs 
and  perplexities  that  were  to  wait  on  her 
footsteps  daily ;  the  gloomy  hours  of  sick- 
ness and  of  death ;  the  battlings  with  pecu- 
niary reverses ;  the  clothing,  and  feeding, 
and  nurturing  of  those  henceforward  to  call 
her  mother.  But,  having  put  her  hand  to 
the  plow,  she  did  not  turn  back  from  the 
heavy  responsibilities  of  her  lot.  With  a 
heroic  endurance,  a  sublime  self-forgetful- 
ness,  that,  a  thousand  times  since  assuming 
manhood's  cares  have  filled  me  with  won- 
der as  I  have  retraced  her  history,  did  slie 
press  forward,  conquering  difficulties,   win- 


312  ON   THE    FRONTIER. 

ning  triumphs,  until,  without  a  peer,  she 
sat  enthroned  in  our  love  in  her  beautiful, 
I  had  almost  said  angelic  goodness,  and 
costly  devotion. 

Ah  !  what  would  have  become  of  us  with- 
out her?  What  a  marvel  of  a  worker  she 
was !  Early  and  late  at  her  tasks,  never 
lagging,  turning  off  labor  with  a  despatch 
that  few  might  hope  to  rival.  The  sweet 
breath  of  the  country,  its  good,  honest  fare, 
its  healthful  scenes,  —  what  would  she  have 
done  as  our  mother  without  the  firm-toned 
constitution  they  had  molded.  And  in 
her  little  tripping  way,  as  she  almost  flew 
about  house,  how  graceful ! 

Rarely  did  she  administer  chastisement, 
however  richly  deserved,  for  she  well  knew 
that  officious  critics  would  intermeddle. 
She  referred  our  misdemeanors  to  father. 
Though  even  then,   there   were  those  wlio 


ON   THE   FRONTIER.  313 

intimated  before  us  that  she  loved  to  find 
fault  with  her  step-children. 

One  day  an  incident  laid  bare  her  heart 
in  some  measure  to  my  eyes. 

I  had  been  perverse,  disrespectful,  diso- 
bedient. As  a  punishment,  she  sent  me  to 
bed  supperless.  I  knew  the  punishment 
was  deserved,  but  went  to  my  room  mutter- 
ing complaints.  At  length  I  fell  asleep. 
How  long  I  remained  thus  I  do  not  know, 
but  suddenly  waking  I  saw  her  kneeling 
at  the  bedside,  her  face  pale,  and  her 
eyes  mournfully  fixed  upon  me. 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  gently,  "  I  am  so  glad 
you  awoke.  You  lay  so  still  I  was  almost 
afraid  you  were  not  alive ;  I  was  listening 
to  hear  if  you  breathed.  Are  you  well, 
dear?  I  came  in  to  see.  I  know  it's  hard 
for  you  to  go  without  your  supper ;  it  was 
hard  for  me  to  punish  you,  but  I  do  want 


314  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

you  to  be  a  good  boy,  that  you  may  grow 
up  a  good  and  useful  man  ! "  Then,  after 
a  moment's  pause,  in  eager  tones,  she  con- 
tinued, "  Do  you  really  think,  dear  child, 
that  I  love  to  find  fault  with  you  ?  or  that 
I  wronged  you  to-night  in  what  I  said  or 
did  ? " 

Thus  did  she  yearn  after  me  with  a 
mother's  solicitude,  and  humble  herself  to 
plead  with  me  after  my  wanton  disobedi- 
ence. My  heart  melted,  and  I  said,  "  I 
have  been  a  naughty,  selfish  boy,  and  you 
have  been  too  kind  to  me.  I  deserved  to 
be  punished.  I  want  you  to  forgive  and 
love  me." 

How  tenderly  she  imprinted  a  kiss  upon 
my  forehead,  and  fervently  imploring  God's 
blessing,  glided  from  the  room. 

Hers  was  a  rugged  path  for  the  most 
part,  such  as  one  sees  running  up  a  moun- 


ON    THE    FRONTIER.  315 

tain  side,  over  roots,  and  stones,  and  bram- 
bles. From  what  secret  spring  did  she 
derive  her  more  than  human  strength? 
Where  obtain  the  patience  and  fortitude 
that  glorified  her  daily  character  ?  Ah  !  is 
there  more  than  one  fountain-head  ?  Ris- 
ing before  day,  while  yet  the  occupants  of 
the  house  were  wrapped  in  sleep,  she  would 
retire  to  a  little  room  and  pour  out  her 
soul  in  fervent  prayer.  Sometimes  the  still 
air  of  the  morning  twilight  has  seemed  to 
my  quickened  sensibilities  to  be  pervaded 
and  throbbing,  as  if  her  very  soul,  in  its 
fervent  pleadings,  filled  the  space  around 
me.  Strangely  thrilled,  I  have  listened, 
wondering  at  the  feeling  that  oppressed 
me ;  awe,  sadness,  self-dissatisfaction,  de- 
sires for  a  better  life  crowding  upon  the 
mind,  as  the  plaintive,  tremulous  voice 
could  just  be  heard.     When  she  had   left 


J5I6  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

communing  with  her  divine  Friend,  and 
we  met  her  at  the  morning  meal,  no  one 
would  fail  to  be  struck  with  her  aspect; 
serious,  serene,  trustful  —  peace,  Christ's 
peace,  impressed  upon  her  brow.  You 
would  take  knowledge  of  her  that  she  had 
been  with  Jesus. 

"  Ah ! "  said  one,  "  when  she  has  chil- 
dren of  her  own  then  you'll  see  a  differ- 
ence ! " 

Well,  Lizzie,  with  her  dark,  reflective 
eyes,  came.  Afterwards  plump  little  Sa- 
rah, with  her  hazel  orbs.  And  was  it  not 
a  miracle  that  half-sisters  and  brothers  grew 
so  into  unity  as  to  need  to  be  reminded 
that  the  full  relation  was  not  theirs ! 

How  often  I  have  collected  my  scattered 
faculties,  as  if  to  master  a  new  thought, 
when  a  visitor  remarked,  "  These  are  your 
step-sisters,  I  suppose?" 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  317 

"  Step-sisters !  "  I  would  reply.  "  Oh, 
yes,  I  had  forgotten  it ! "  quickly  to  for- 
get it  again. 

And  what  a  love  was  hers!  What  deli- 
cate, far-reaching  sympathies  !  what  bound- 
less charity !  what  intuitive  perception  of 
other's  rights,  and  ready,  persuasive  cham- 
pionship of  the  unappreciated  and  the 
wronged.  What  genial,  winning  ways  to- 
wards the  young ;  how  self-denyingly  benev- 
olent. And  as  age  enfeebled  her  step  and 
silvered  her  head,  growing  younger  and 
younger  in  her  tastes,  responding  to  the 
innocent  jest,  delighting  in  innocent  enjoy- 
ments, charming  every  one  with  her  kind 
words  and  kind  deeds. 

"  Grandmother  is  coming  !  "  Henry,  the 
youngest,  would  exclaim,  as  he  rushed  into 
the  house  to  be  first  with  the  good  news. 

Sure    enough.      Feebly    tripping    along, 


318  ON   THE   FRONTIER. 

with  a  mysterious  package,  too  heavy  for 
her  strength,  under  her  arm,  she  would 
approach,  panting  with  exertion,  her  face 
radiant  with  affection. 

"  0  mother ! "  we  would  say,  "  you 
have  taken  too  much  pains  to  see  us  — 
the  walk  is  too  much  for  you ! " 

"  Don't  say  a  word  !  "  she  would  answer, 
deprecatingly ;  "I  couldn't  stay  away  any 
longer.  I  must  know  how  you  all  do. 
And  here,"  undoing  her  bundle, '"  are 
some  little  things  I  have  brought  for  the 
children." 

Her  energetic  heart  grew  in  wealth  of 
love  marvel ously,  and  her  sympathies  em- 
braced the  world.  But  specially  among 
her  kindred  did  their  quick  and  active 
power  appear.  It  was  strange  to  us  how 
soon  she  became  aware  of  it,  if  any  trouble 
invaded  our  ranks. 


ON  THE   FRONTIER.  319 

One  night,  sudden,  evil  news,  of  which 
none  knew  but  ourselves,  kept  our  little 
circle  sleepless.  We  lived  remote  from  the 
maternal  roof.  Next  morning,  calling 
there,  mother  took  me  aside  and  said, 
"  Tell  me,  my  son,  if  you  were  unhappy 
last  night.  I  must  know,  for  I  could  not 
sleep  —  you  were  on  my  mind  so.  It 
seemed  to  me  that   you  were  in  trouble ! " 

But  she's  gone.  Three  weeks  ago  to- 
day, over  the  wires  flew  the  message: 
^"^  Mother  is  very  sick,  and  can  live  only  a 
few  hours  ?  " 

Then  immediately  following  came  the 
crushing  announcement  of  her  death. 

But  she  passed  away  as  she  had  lived. 
In  usual  health  she  stood  by  her  chair, 
about  to  take  her  seat  at  the  dinner-table, 
uttering  one  of  her  pleasant  remarks,  when 
the  wing  of  the  death  angel  touched  her; 


820  ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

she  fell,  speechless,  unconscious,  and  never 
revived.  It  was  as  if  the  loving  Saviour 
designed  her  last  words  should  be  like 
her,  should  represent  her,  and  from  the 
family  board  her  spirit  went  up  to  the 
kindred  hearts  around  the  feast>table  of 
heaven. 

Dear,  noble,  sainted  mother !  how  can 
we  bear  to  see  thee  no  more  and  hear  no 
more  thy  words  of  love !  But  thou  art 
safe,   happy,   robed   in   glory. 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNivEa^rr  o^  California 


B    000  011230    0 


BV 
4515 
058 


